


The Weight of Silver

by Catastra_Fey



Series: Of Sword and Song [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, Bokuto sings, Combat, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Strife, Heroism, Killing, M/M, Magic, Mean akaashi, Mild BDSM, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexy threats, Side of kyouteru, Song Lyrics, Songfic, bandit leader akaashi, battle kilts, berserker bokuto, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catastra_Fey/pseuds/Catastra_Fey
Summary: Akaashi Keiji is a bandit leader who carries the weight of many lives on his shoulders. He has a strict moral code which has aided him thus far in living with his criminal path, but what happens when those morals are challenged? When a brave and powerful warrior of noble blood, one who holds the key to either his vengeance or the betterment of the bandit guild as a whole, stumbles into his lap, how will he proceed? Either path can be justified, but both mean the life of a warrior who's nobility runs deeper than his bloodline. Can he truly reconcile the life of one for the betterment of many and which path will he choose?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kyoutani Kentarou/Terushima Yuuji
Series: Of Sword and Song [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589581
Comments: 131
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! I love this world so I'm writing another one in it! This story will not be as epic or probably as deep and impactful as its predecessor, cards on the table. I wanted to write these two characters, but the story is not as, er, I'll just say, good as Moonlight was. Just fair warning. Hopefully it will still be a fun ride!
> 
> You don't have to have read Why The Moonlight Was Woven to read this. There are a couple tie ins, but they are not central to the story, so don't feel obligated if you're not a kurodai fan and are just here for this pairing.
> 
> Bokuto's going to sing for you in this one. Because he's a bardbarian. XD He also wears a battle kilt. So at least there's that. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading!

Keiji Akaashi's eyes sharpened toward the road as the first call from the head scout echoed through the forest. He couldn't see the wagon yet, but he could hear it and it sounded heavy. He swung down from the low hide he had been perched in, in one of the hundreds of trees which packed densely around the worn road. He moved swiftly and silently through the underbrush, checking the positions of his men with soft bird calls. Everyone was ready. 

As he reached the sorcerer, his eyes alight with the blue detection magic, he nodded to him. Terushima would be able to tell if they carried any magic with them. He had been an invaluable asset since the new King of the Bandits, the Guardian God, had sent him. Losing four of his men during a skirmish a few months back had crippled his confidence as a leader and Nishinoya had seen it. He'd sent him able-bodied and battle-hardened people to join his band and it had made all the difference.

He watched Terushima's face as the wagon came around the bend. One horse, three men, only one with a sword. The sorcerer shook his head. No magic. Akaashi took off through the leaves to get a closer look. He scented the air and caught the earthy smell that followed the cart. Of course. He sighed heavily. He let out three low owl hoots, the sign to stand down. They would let this wagon through without incident.

As he met the group of six in their designated clearing, they all looked frustrated. Even the usually jovial Tanaka, another of Nishinoya's personal picks, had a look of deep frustration. The Bandit King had sent him these men, and thus far, they had been completely underutilized by the slow traffic through the area. It made all his men antsy, but the new group doubly so. 

“They were farmers. No sense in attacking them. Their cart was filled with potatoes,” he told them and most nodded, but Terushima's lip raised in a sneer.

“They were still a merchant. They might have had something. We could have at least checked.” He took a moment to regard the fiery sorcerer, his blonde hair grown out dark at the roots, his many piercings accentuating his attractive features. He went down his list of traits assigned to the man: impatient, impulsive, thrill-seeking, risk-taking. These months of no action had been hard on him. He wasn't in it for the money. He liked the fighting and the power trip.

“Two farm boys and a cheap hired sword. They would have surrendered and we would get nothing but the shirts off their backs. Letting them through means they spread the word that this area is clear and bigger merchants begin to take it. Bigger merchants means more take, better guards, and the satisfaction of besting someone who thinks they're untouchable. Think it through, Terushima-san.” 

“Besides,” Tanaka chimed in, “we don't want to be the kind of people who steal pennies from the poor anymore. Nishinoya is changing all that.”

“Problem is,” Terushima responded to them, arms crossed over his chest, “we've been riding off the rumors and fears from the previous king and how his bandits handled people. The more we don't follow those same rules, killing and taking prisoners for ransom, the more people realize we've gone soft. The more pushback we get.” He was right. People were starting to realize that the bandits weren't the cutthroats they once were. But it was well worth it, to Akaashi, at least. His people passed him glances, knowing full well that even under the previous king, at least as long as they had known him, Akaashi didn't tolerate such things. The bandits were his family, but just because they stole from people didn't mean that they had to be the evil villains their reputation suggested. No, he now found mindless cruelty disgusting, in no small part due to his own dark past with it. Still, Terushima was one of them and he kept his face placid. 

“It's not up for discussion. Tanaka-san, first watch. I'll relieve you. Everyone else back to camp. Get some sleep.” The sorcerer made a 'tch' sound but Akaashi ignored him. He'd found that while he was an outspoken brat of a man, Terushima would follow his orders and the more authority he wielded with him, the more easily he submitted. 

When he returned to his tent, Akaashi noticed a raven waiting patiently on the receiving perch. The note tied to its leg was banded with a deep red string, a sign that the message was urgent. It was unusual for the bandit king to have urgent requests of Akaashi's small band, so he pulled the tiny scroll of paper free and unrolled it immediately. He used some of the spellsand on the lantern, turning the flame blue and held the note up to it. The scrawling words of his superior bled onto the paper from the magical light.

_Akaashi, you're not going to like this. But I have a very important job for you._

He sighed heavily. It must be important for the Guardian God to send the request like this, but he gritted his teeth in worry for what it would be. If Nishinoya knew he wouldn't like it, that didn't bode well. He licked his thumb and pressed it to the paper, erasing the words and letting the next appear.

_We've got a bounty from a lord in Fukurodani. From House Bokuto._ Akaashi felt the name move through his blood like ice-water. His usually flat expression shifted, the demons from his past slipping through.

House Bokuto. Easily the most powerful of the noble houses in Fukurodani and definitely the wealthiest. They owned the silver mine that had orphaned him as a young boy. His parents had been trapped in indentured servitude to the nobles, a trap offered to any who immigrated to the area. Lord Bokuto offered food and shelter in exchange for work, however the living conditions were horrid and the pennies offered for the work rarely got the workers out of the mines before they succumbed to the harsh conditions, illness, or accident. The mountain of of wealth the lord sat upon, like a dragon on a hoard, was defended by his well trained mercenaries along with their symbol and originating source of their power: the manticore. 

The house crest was based off of the founding father who had secured their nobility. He had tricked the legendary creature, the manticore, into owing a life debt to their family. The beast had the body of a lion, the face of a man, and the tail of a scorpion, was rumored to be almost immortal, and had been loyal to the family for generations. It followed the decree of the head of the house at any given time, for good or ill, and was feared by any who would so much as whisper dissent toward the powerful nobles. Fukurodani may not have had an official king, but House Bokuto certainly held the voice of authority on the council and those who strongly opposed them found their power slipping away. 

The life blood of Fukurodani was the silver from that mine. And it flowed through the veins of that family like the poison in the manticore's sting. Had it not been for them, Akaashi's life would have been so different, so much warmer and fuller. Working for them in any way was...it was a betrayal of self. He swallowed hard, swiping across the note for the next section.

_The only son and heir to the mantle has run away to join the Great Horns. They want him back and will pay handsomely for it._

The Great Horns, a noteworthy adventuring company with far reaching influence who were allies to the bandits. To betray them was a weighty decision and one that Nishinoya would not make without due consideration. Though, why the group would accept a pampered and spoiled noble's son was a mystery, as they were generally very stringent on who they allowed into their ranks.

_He will be traveling through your territory with three other warriors. I need you to capture them, alive, so that we can deliver him back to the nobles. I know you will have qualms with this, but know that the money they offer will save countless lives, both bandit and civilian, as our change in procedure has led to far less profit to support our far reaching kin. I appreciate your cooperation._

It was not a request. It was an order. Nishinoya knew he didn't trade in lives, but he didn't know the history. House Bokuto's only son. The taste of vengeance felt rich upon his tongue as he let the idea curl within him. There was monumental reason why they were offering the moon in exchange for him. The laws of Fukurodani only allowed men to be the head of a household and if the only son were to die or disappear, then the Bokuto bloodline would be considered dead, releasing the manticore from his debt and bringing the silver mine under rule of the council as a whole, rather than one family. It would destroy them. 

The consequences of failing to fulfill this order would be grave. He was sure that he could handle the Guardian God's wrath, even the likely demotion within the ranks, but the knowledge that his action would cost lives would be a terrible burden to carry. But how many lives would be saved by toppling that family? He would have to think on it and carefully weigh the outcomes. 

_The man you are looking for is Koutarou Bokuto, a warrior of whispered skill. Don't underestimate him and the company he keeps. Word has it that some of them are berserkers. He has gray hair that fades to black close to his scalp and tawny eyes, but, as you know, the best way to confirm will be the noble's crest tattooed on his chest. Capture them, take minimal risks, and I will smooth out the wrinkles with the Great Horns. The other three can be released once Koutarou is handed over. I trust you to handle this. Send a missive once they are in your custody._

The note blanked and the flames in his lantern reverted to their dim orange glow. He looked at the raven. Yes, there was much to consider. Ambushing the group would be easy, as they would assume safe passage through the territory of their allies. Terushima should be able to put them to sleep without incident. He likely had a few days before they would arrive to decide if he would follow the plan or allow for an 'accident.'

He blew out the lantern, casting the tent in darkness that mirrored the shadows moving through Akaashi's mind. Old wounds ached, both in the scars on his back and the ones buried in his heart. The tight control he wielded on his emotions and actions felt like it was fraying beneath the surge of buried anger and he took a deep breath to steady himself. He would think on it. Alone. As always.


	2. Chapter 2

Koutarou Bokuto had never known such heady, unbridled joy as he had felt over the past week. The sun shone golden on his bronze skin, the warpaint that covered his mark of nobility barely cutting its magnificent heat. The wind ruffled through his hair, the smell of the berry juice they'd used to dye it filling his nostrils like a breath of sweet summer. 

“Do you have any more you can sing us, Bokuto-san?” Kindaichi asked, a light-hearted smile plastered across his face. Kunimi nodded along with him. The fourth member of their little band remained silent, his brow locked in a scowl, but he didn't protest.

“Y-yeah! I've got tons of them! If you really want to hear them!” He was so used to being told to keep quiet, to stop singing, to stop moving around so much, to be everything that ran counterpoint to who he was. Having people actually want to hear him made his chest feel light and he started in on the next bawdy tune he had learned in secret. 

It had taken so much to reach this point. His teacher, Takeyuki-sensei, the man who had taught him not only how to fight but also how to inspire those around him, had saved his life. He'd been a plant from the Great Horns, a years long cultivation to culminate in this final step toward freedom. With it, House Bokuto would fall. Koutarou knew this and it fueled his passion all the more. When he was fifteen he had learned the dark truths of his family's wealth and power, the silver mines and the wage enslavement of the people who worked them. His father had bragged about it, treated it as a brilliant business venture. For ten years now, he had carried that sickness, the knowledge that his whole life had been meticulously planned around this evil. 

The shackles of House Bokuto were cold iron, and it was clear that his father would continue to run things even after his arranged marriage and ascension. Koutarou was strong and brave, but his father was the one enemy he felt unable to face, no less defeat. The man knew every angle with which to critically wound him. Every confrontation had ended in emotional slaughter. Lord Bokuto expected his only son to seek his praise and approval, but his constant abuse had yielded only one desire in Koutarou: freedom. If he stayed, he would be nothing more than a pawn, a tool his father could use at will to perpetuate the misery and corruption his house seeded. 

When word had come that the woman he was meant to marry was traveling to them, he had begun to break down. It was the final nail in the coffin of his bureaucratic imprisonment. It had seemed like such a distant thing, but then the knowledge that even his romantic life would be controlled, tied to a woman, no less, had stifled the last of his hope. He didn't even like women. He'd known the expectation, but the thought of having to 'produce an heir' made his stomach churn. How could he allow some poor girl to be damned to a life with him when he could never truly love her like that? 

And when she had arrived, wisp-like and dainty as a spring flower, her smile sweet and lovely, he had hated that truth. That only other men had ever drawn his gaze and that this sweet girl, the very essence of femininity, made him recoil. Her months of tutelage in the affairs of House Bokuto had left Koutarou dodging her at every corner. He'd met her, of course, in a formal setting or two, his heart crushed by her kind and honest eyes. It was the day he saw the wedding flowers arrive, bright yellow and soft grey, overflowing from carts, that he broke.

It was an odd thing, perhaps, to be the breaking point. Vapid in comparison to the rest of the responsibilities hung around his neck. But it was enough. He'd broken down to his mentor and Takeyuki-sensei had offered him the chance that would change the course of his life forever. Told him who he was and that he was here for Koutarou for this very reason. It was almost too perfect, dream-like, but he'd had nothing else to cling to. 

When his mentor disappeared and the next day he received a message from one of the scullery maids to go to the gardens at nightfall, he had followed it like a siren's call. He'd met the three men on the wall, no idea how they'd managed to get up it without alerting the guards, and they'd helped him off of the premises and to a fully equipped horse. Once they were clear, they had exchanged his fine clothes for the Fukurodani warrior garb, battle kilt with leg wrappings that wound the black leathers from his shins to his upper thighs. Fukurodani warriors seldom wore armor, so he stayed bare chested, the straps from his axe holsters tight across his chest and shoulders. They used war paint to cover his mark of nobility and the berry juice to die his hair. By the time they were done, he just looked like a regular soldier traveling with mercenaries. His sporran bore the owl head symbol of the Great Horns. Two weeks of travel would bring them to a safe haven for the company in Johzenji, and they would see to it that he disappeared from the reach of his tyrannical father.

The last week of travel had slipped by with ease. Getting to know Kindaichi, Kunimi, and Kyoutani had been rewarding and filled him with the hope that only the Lady of Light herself usually granted. He found that they listened to him, already treating him as a brother in arms. They were inspired by his words and fighting along side them had proven to be incredible. The four of them were ferocious and unstoppable, like a tidal wave breaking over their enemies. 

The thing about his rages was that it left his memory fuzzy. It was an incredible warrior skill, one that Takeyuki had cultivated well, and he had been able to wield it effectively from their first skirmish. But he didn't remember what he had done. He was still unsure if he had killed anyone and it sat heavy upon his shoulders. He supposed he would have to get used to it if he was to continue on this path. He had cleaned blood from his twin axes and his body, but how it had gotten there was a blur. Kyoutani was also a berserker, but he said little, even when asked directly. The other two were just warriors, full battle armor protecting them from harm. The berserkers felt no pain while in the grip of their battle fury, would keep going until they were literally torn apart. Because of that, it was important to travel with cool heads, and he was grateful for the two of them. 

He'd learned so much already, but had never once questioned his decision to go with them. His only regret was leaving his sister behind, but she had been resigned to the life their father had arranged for them and he wasn't sure he could have brought her with even if she had wanted to go. Right now, Koutarou was mainly just along for the ride, letting the path take him wherever it would. As long as that path was away from his father. 

Kyoutani straightened suddenly and the other two looked at him. Bokuto let his song die away with the breeze. The path before them was clear and quiet, the trees to either side rustling gently in a calming susurration. 

“What is it, Mad Dog?” Kindaichi asked him, the moniker still making Koutarou smirk. But the other berserker was all sharp senses and focus, scanning the trees. 

“I smell magic,” he grunted, and they all went on high alert. 

“It's fine, it's fine. This is bandit country, but the Great Horns are allies to them. They've probably just got a mage who's scanning us,” Kunimi reassured them, but even his voice sounded tight. Kyoutani slipped from his horse, pulling his warhammer free of the holster on his back. Bokuto followed suit, dismounting and pulling his axes free. He didn't see or hear anything, but Kyoutani's senses for impending battle were incredible. The other two dismounted as well, Kindaichi stepping forward, sword at the ready. 

“We are members of the Great Horns, traveling to Johzenji and request safe passage through this area,” Kindaichi spoke with clear certainty and they waited, perched on the edge of the adrenaline rush.

“Fuck! Scatter!” Kyoutani shouted and they sped in separate directions but Bokuto felt a heavy tiredness drag across his mind, slowing his muscles. He looked over to see Kunimi and Kindaichi fall where they stood, as if they had collapsed from exhaustion. His eyelids felt heavy and the weight of the axes was pulling his arms down. He shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. 

Kyoutani shot past him like a cannonball, straight into the woods. The frenetic energy that surrounded him suggested he had already flown into the rage. Perhaps if he just rested a moment he would feel better about fighting...

A man stepped out of the woods, his body wrapped in black leather, two glinting blades in his hands. Bokuto blinked at him, trying to get his vision to clear. This was a threat. He needed to act now. He pushed through the drowsiness, letting his blood begin to flow hot. As his mind began to clear, he started to understand the situation more fully. The bright rage burned through his veins, banishing the last bit of magic which had threatened to drag him under. His eyes locked upon the man in front of him as he crouched into a battle stance.

Koutarou felt his heart rumble out of time for a moment. The man before was him lean and lithe, his curving blades held low and muscles taut. Dark hair curled around him like a halo of shadows and his eyes were dark with menace. And he was...achingly beautiful. 

His hands tightened around the hafts of his axes. Attraction was not something that had ever struck him while the rage was unleashed and the affect was staggering. He panted as the anger became tinged with desire, a driving an animal need that found purchase in his abdomen. He knew how to navigate the violence, that gnawing need to tear at flesh, but this was so new and uncharted and he didn't have time to process it. 

The man ran at him, swords raised before him in a cross and Bokuto let out a growl as the beast rose up within him. He swung forward lightning fast as the raven-haired man came within reach, but he was faster, ducking under the blow and skidding behind Bokuto. The berserker smiled wide. Oh, he was good. But so was Koutarou. 

His instinct told him where the strike was targeting and he spun away from it, his axe following the path and catching his enemy on the shoulder, just barely. Enough to split the leather and bloody his blade. Yes. He could smell the iron in the air and it drove into him like a hunger. His follow-up swing was dodged handily and a thin blade slid against his exposed left arm. Bright blood welled from the cut, but he felt nothing. 

An arrow slammed into his thigh, a twinge of pain cutting through the haze of his rage, but he could ignore it, his focus solely on the man before him. His blades crashed against the twin swords, the smaller man grimacing against him. He held out for only a second before pushing the axes aside, enough of an opening for Bokuto to shoulder into him and send him tumbling away. Another arrow found his shoulder.

The man sprung back up in an instant, but he turned away and ran to the side. Bokuto gave chase without a moment's hesitation, but pulled up short as his adversary leaped over the prone form of Kindaichi, spinning and laying a blade to his neck. 

“You're better than I gave you credit for, Bokuto-san” his voice was smooth, despite his somewhat labored breathing. “But I will kill your comrade unless you surrender now. We have already subdued your other ally.” 

He glanced over his shoulder to see two men carrying Kyoutani out of the woods, fully unconscious. Another man followed them in a green hooded robe, looking ruffled and battered. Mage. Of course Mad Dog had found him. His nose for magic was a tool of unrivaled usefulness. Amazing that he hadn't killed the man. Two more arrows thudded into the ground at his feet and he turned back to the man threatening Kindaichi. The beast howled to tear him apart, that if he was to die he should take as many of them down with him as possible, but the enormity of just how outmatched he was and the danger to his companions was winning out. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep and steadying breath, willing the rage to quell. As the tide of it washed out, the pain exploded in his leg, arm, and shoulder and he staggered. This was the downside of the battle rage. Feeling the aftermath and the exhaustion that accompanied it. He looked up and saw the blade at Kindaichi's throat and wondered how they'd crossed so much space from where this started. Two blades bit into his back in a less than subtle threat. 

“Wait, please, we're Great Horns. They said...the bandits were our allies.” He dropped his weapons to the ground, his hope draining away. A kick to the back of his knee dropped him and men took his arms and grabbed him by the hair as the alluring man in black leather approached him. His expression was lax and uncaring across his striking features. His armor was split at the shoulder, red visible against pale flesh. Had Bokuto really only injured him once? One of the curved blades slid up his torso and throat to rest beneath his chin. The scrape against his skin made him shiver as those dark eyes followed its progression.

“You're Koutarou Bokuto, correct? Only son of Eito Bokuto, Lord of House Bokuto of the Manticore?” Another man approached him and handed him a water skin.

“I-I was. But-” The dark man upended the water skin over his head, making him splutter as red tinged water ran down is face and chest. The sword tip fell from him and when he opened his eyes, his enemy had taken a knee in front of him and knelt close. The hands holding back his arms were tight, securing him against taking any action, the sharp edge of a spear blade still resting between his shoulder blades. 

“One does not simply decide to change who they are, noble son.” The way he said it was cutting, like the most terrible slur. He pulled off one black gauntlet with his teeth and reached out, his thin fingers moving across Koutarou's chest. He felt his face heat, unsure what the man was doing until his hand pulled back clay red and his hard gaze met Bokuto's. The warpaint. He looked down to see the black symbol of the manticore revealed, the tattoo that marked him as a noble of his house. His heart sank further.

“Take him and the others back to camp and chain them up. I want them all separated. Eyes on the blue-blood at all times. Pull those arrows out of him and give him enough healing to keep him from bleeding out. I want him still wounded though. Understood?” The men responded and pulled Bokuto up, dizzying pain lancing from where the arrows were still embedded in him. He couldn't think through the crippling tear of each step. 

He just had to survive. As long as he was alive, there was still hope for freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to see my (very amateur) depiction of Bokuto from this story with his tattoo, come take a look on my [tumblr](https://catastrafey.tumblr.com/post/612607130649985024/this-is-barbarian-bokuto-from-my-fantasy-au-the)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for bad Akaashi? Because I hope you're ready.

Akaashi was still as cool water as one of the men smeared the healing balm across his wound. Under the surface though, he was turbulent, buzzing like lightning. Terushima groaned in pain next to him as another of their ranks placed the unguent over the vicious purple bruise that was blooming across his side. He heard the nobleman cry out in pain from the nearby tent as well and it made his heartbeat thunder in his ears.

It hadn't gone as expected. Not at all. He hadn't realized that the berserker rage would allow them to overcome the sleep spell like it did. And the fact that the smaller blonde berserker had somehow gone straight for the mage had really made a mess of things. He'd laid the sorcerer out flat with a single hit, standing over him like an animal ready to go for the kill. He'd never seen Terushima look so frightened. Thankfully, Tanaka and a few of the others had been standing by to redirect him, so that the sorcerer could use a more powerful and direct spell to subdue him. 

It was lucky, because while Akaashi had seen and recognized the need for his aid, his focus was clear and unwavering. He'd known the son of House Bokuto the second he had seen him. He was tall and broad chested, the Fukurodani battle gear falling well over his large frame. The warpaint across his chest was a dead giveaway and the pink tinge to his hair that didn't extend to his silver eyebrows was so obvious it was painful. 

But when his eyes had flared with the fire of the berserker rage, Akaashi had felt heat beneath his own skin. Watching the transformation was incredible, not something he had witnessed before. The dull gaze and heavy weight of the sleep magic had melted from him, a spark behind his dusky eyes had shifted his whole being into one of sharp focus. He had become a hunter. His muscles had flexed beneath bronze skin, his head cocking to the side as he raked his gaze over Akaashi and it had felt...lascivious. He'd licked his lips in a way that made the bandit leader's pulse quicken. 

He wasn't sure anyone had ever looked at him like that. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't shaken him, caused him to charge in when he should have waited for the brute to attack. He knew he had been no match for the man's strength, but his prowess had been astounding. For him to land a hit on Akaashi from behind him should not have been possible for a simple-minded warrior. Of course, the bandit leader had been tethered by using non-lethal attacks, but he should have danced around the hulking man. Instead, Bokuto had met him blow for blow and when he had run, had chased him, oblivious to the arrow protruding from his leg. Seeing that wall of blade and muscle bear down on him had brought him both fear and excitement. He wanted to keep fighting him. To keep seeing the majestic way that he moved and feel the heat of his gaze. 

What was wrong with him? He'd never seen someone in battle and felt...admiration? Attraction? Both things felt true but the words didn't really fit what he had experienced. Looking upon the berserker had been like seeing something primal but also shot through with divinity. Seeing the light fade from him, his men bringing him to his knees, it had been almost wounding to see something so radiant felled. He had looked at Akaashi with pleading eyes, his voice clear and golden. 

And yet...having him at his mercy, drawing the tip of his sword from the man's navel to his chin had been almost...erotic. The water dripping down him, the feel of his skin beneath the paint, searing hot but smooth beneath the bandit's fingers...he had felt his heartbeat, strong and sturdy, still fast from battle and it resonated within his own chest. It had awakened things that had been long slumbering. For good reason.

His burst of lust could not have been more poorly placed. He needed to be thinking about either killing him or handing him over to Lord Bokuto. Instead, there were old and untamed desires that were welling to the surface and it was an unwelcome distraction. His handsome face and round eyes played across Akaashi's mind, making him grit his teeth. This loss of mental control was unacceptable. 

He stood and stalked toward the tent that Bokuto was held in, whipping through the door without announcing. He sucked in a breath sharply through his nose, trying to hide his reaction. Bokuto sat against the tent's central pole, his wrists tethered high with leather straps. His head was leaned back against it, eyes closed, as Tanaka placed healing balm on his wounds. Where the arrow had pierced his thigh, his kilt was pushed up past where the leg bindings ended, a strip of bronzed skin visible between the layers. Seeing him laid out, so vulnerable...anger spiked at his inability to control his arousal. 

Tanaka looked up at him, nervous energy radiating off of the usually sturdy warrior. Akaashi cocked his head at his compatriot. 

“His wounds were bad, senpai. I don't know how he gritted through the pain to keep going like that. I had to use the salve liberally to close them up and I'm guessing they'll heal completely by tomorrow. Sorry, I know you said to leave him wounded.”

“Don't mind, Tanaka-san.” Akaashi's gaze never left the berserker, who's eyes had opened and glanced toward Akaashi. The bandit leader regarded him like a bug pinned delicately to a scientist's board. “Wounds can always be reopened.”

The muscular noble leveled his amber stare at him, a twitch in his cheek belying his calm. Tanaka stood and backed away as Akaashi approached him, slipping a particularly wicked looking curved dagger from his belt. He pressed its tip to the hollow of Bokuto's throat and saw ferocity flash in the warrior's eyes. His chest heaved and the leather bindings at his wrists creaked in protest.

“Now, Bokuto-san,” he whispered low and dangerous, acutely aware that Tanaka watched the interaction closely, “tell me. Why would a man perched on the edge of being the most powerful lord in Fukurodani suddenly flee his lavish lifestyle? I'm terribly curious.” He let his tone shift almost playfully, but Bokuto's gaze never left his eyes.

“They're monsters. I wanted nothing of it. If I disappear, then House Bokuto falls.” Interesting. It had not been the answer he expected.

“Why now?” He put just a touch more pressure on the knife and Bokuto gritted his teeth.

“My...my wedding was to be in two days time. To someone I could never love. Someone who deserved love. It would have marked my ascension but I'd have had no power. My father would have still ruled.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. The knife point glided upward, over Bokuto's adam's apple and under his chin, forcing his head back. Akaashi was spoiling himself, the threat a thin veil to hide the delight he was getting out of toying with this man. The thick expanse of his throat lay before him, and he stared like a wolf at the kill spot of its prey. All that hard muscle and rage, honed skill immeasurable fortitude, it was nothing now. He could kill him with barely a flick of his wrist. He felt heady and too warm from the rush of power over his physical superior. He was nearly salivating.

“Hmm, nobility from a nobleman. Will wonders never cease.”

“Please,” he begged, his voice deliciously pleading and small, “please don't take me back there. It's better for everyone if I disappear. Whatever my father has offered you, it won't be worth it. Please, I...I don't want to become his pawn.” There was such earnest longing in his eyes and Akaashi let his mask slip, a grimace overtaking his calm demeanor.

“You're the only man who could change it, yet you choose to run away? Coward.” Bokuto's eyebrows shot up and he lurched forward, the dagger scoring a red cut along his chin and jaw as he brought his face even with Akaashi's. Rage burned in his eyes again and Akaashi grabbed his jaw with his other hand, ignoring that blood that slicked his thumb in the process.

“No! You don't understand! This is the only way. This, or my death. And if I have to die, then so be it, just please, please for love of the Lady, don't send me back there.” 

Akaashi let his face fall placid again, tilting his chin up slightly as he leaned close to Bokuto. He could smell the sharp iron of blood and sweet scent of the fruit that had died his hair. He was inches from the warrior's face and he watched the man's cheeks flush as his eyes dropped to Akaashi's lips. It made them lift on one side, into a soft and arrogant smirk. 

“Your supplications do not move me, noble son. But killing you would bring me great satisfaction, so I shall consider it.” He shoved Bokuto's head back against the pole and stood, taking a step back and sheathing the dagger in a smooth motion. Bokuto looked up at him, his face red and blood running down his neck and chest. Never breaking eye contact, Akaashi dragged his tongue along his thumb that had been bloodied on Bokuto's chin. The warrior's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Then he turned and left, as swiftly and silently as he had entered, only to have a hand on his arm stop him a few paces from the tent. It was Tanaka, looking wholly unsettled. Akaashi just quirked his eyebrow in question. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asked in a whisper, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Do you have a problem?” Akaashi responded curtly.

“I-I've just never...seen you like that.”

“You haven't known me very long.” He turned away from Tanaka and trudged into the darkness. It was true. They hadn't known the man he once was before, the one he had tried to bury. But the opening of these long poisoned wounds had brought forth the demon he had once hidden within, the reason he had been given this position, and had gained the freedom to break free of the old ways and better himself. A Talon to the previous King of the Bandits. 

As he entered his tent, he took a shuddering breath, the taste of blood still thick on his tongue. He panted into the dense blackness, trying reel his mind back under control. He would have to be careful. Let the past stay buried. He let the serenity wash over him that he had so carefully cultivated over the last few years, pushing that darkness back into submission. 

Lighting his small lantern with a press to the rune etched in its glass, he pulled a small piece of parchment from the box he kept neatly tucked under his mattress. He took out the pen, the spellink glittering in the low light.

_Nishinoya, we have the noble. Awaiting further orders._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is real fluffy. Just fair warning.
> 
> Here is Bokuto's song! [I Just Wanna Shine – Fitz and The Tantrums](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzPW9pn6JbI)

The next morning, Koutarou woke to the scream of his muscles from being trapped in the terrible position all night. The bindings around his wrists were cutting into him and he'd never had his arms held above his head so long. He groaned as he tried to shift his body into a better arrangement, but it only sparked new aches and pains into existence. 

“Oh! You're awake!” The man who had tended to his injuries the day before rushed over to him, lifting a water skin to his lips which he drank greedily from. The guy smiled and checked his wounds. At least those weren't killing him today. The regular muscle ache from a healed injury was there, but it was nothing compared the pounding pain in his shoulders. 

“I'm Tanaka. I'll be the one mostly watching over you. We don't want you to be suffering while we wait for your family to retrieve you, so please tell me if you need anything.” The man had a kind and open face, his hair closely shaved and his armor nothing more than light leathers. Koutarou had seen him ferociously wield a spear on the battlefield the day before, but now he was a completely different person. One who threatened to set Bokuto at ease.

“My friends?” He asked, hoping with all his heart that they were okay and would not receive such rough treatment as he had from the bandit leader the night before. Tanaka nodded to him.

“They're fine. Your other berserker friend had a few injuries, but they've been healed. Nothing as bad as yours. And they'll be released as soon as you're on your way back to Fukurodani.” Right. Back to the life he had tried so hard to escape from. Back to the life that meant the worst outcome for him, that poor girl, and the people under his house's influence. He was sure his new friends were downtrodden as well. They had risked a great deal to get him out of there. 

He felt the claws of despair reach up for him and begin to take hold. He shifted again and grimaced against the pain.

“Can I...can you lower my arms?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice and was relieved to see Tanaka's face soften. He looked over his shoulder toward the entrance to the tent and then back.

“Don't make me regret this, okay?” He brought down one of the warrior's hands at a time, Bokuto hissing through clenched teeth with each movement as his body protested the night held in such a fashion. He didn't fight at all as Tanaka secured them back in the lowered position. He didn't have the strength right now.

“Thanks. You seem nice,” Koutarou said to his guardian and Tanaka smiled slightly and nodded. “I didn't really expect that after last night.” Tanaka's face darkened in response to him and his eyes shifted away. 

“Yeah...Bokuto-san, do you know our leader? Have you met him before?” Bokuto responded with just a shake of his head.

“Why?”

“I haven't been with this company long, but Akaashi has never been like that around anyone before. It seemed really personal. He's really not a bad guy...” Tanaka passed him an open and honest look but Bokuto couldn't hide the dubious expression that crossed his face. That guy, Akaashi, he had emanated power and malice in a way that he hadn't really experienced before. Even his father, a man who wielded authority like an iron cudgel, had always been detached from the consequences of his decisions. Tanaka was right, this had seemed highly personal. Personal wasn't even a strong enough word. Intimate. He hadn't just threatened him, but made him feel utterly helpless. He felt some shame in the fact that fear was not the only reaction it had elicited in him. 

“Not a bad guy, huh...” Koutarou said quietly, but Tanaka's brows knit together and he huffed out a sigh. 

“I know. What he did to you was messed up, no doubt. But what he's helped do for the bandits has been an incredible thing. We were once brutal and terrible, exactly the monsters the rumors made us out to be. Under our old king, we would have been ordered to just kill your friends. Probably also break your leg good, so you couldn't escape. According to the new King of the Bandits, who's working hard to change that, Akaashi is part of the reason we can move forward to be better. Be more of an equalizing force to the world. We don't take from the poor anymore, only rich nobles and fat cat merchants. We actually help to build up communities in a lot of cities. We're finally doing work we can be proud of. And it's men like Akaashi who helped us reach that point.”

Koutarou stared at him, amazed. Could that even be true? Could the bandits have become a benevolent force in the world? He had never heard of such a thing, but as he looked into the heartfelt face before him, he couldn't help but believe that Tanaka, at least, believed this to be true. If that was the case then...

“Then, Tanaka-san, you shouldn't be doing this! My family should be brought down, not kept standing by my imprisonment! Please! Returning me to Fukurodani is a bad decision for the many innocent people there. Surely you see that!” 

“It's not my place to question. It's not even Akaashi's. When the Bandit King says jump, we say 'how high.' I'm sure he has his reasons. He's a very good friend to me and I trust him.” 

Bokuto swallowed down the bitterness that had risen to the back of his throat. He'd felt such a flash of hope and now it was dying under the weight of Tanaka's nonchalance. He needed to do something before he fell victim entirely to this crushing despair.

“Hey Tanaka-san? Can I...can I sing something? Just so my friends will know I'm all right. And maybe so they can feel better? It's kind of a thing we do in the mornings?” He peeked up at the warrior and Tanaka just blinked at him in confusion.

“Uh...okay. Yeah, sure. It'll probably annoy Akaashi, but he can't really argue that there's any harm in that. But if you're terrible at it, I'm not above physical violence to stop your squawking.” Tanaka smiled wide and Koutarou actually laughed. Despite everything, Tanaka had a contagious positivity that was exactly what he needed right now. 

“You'll like it, I bet,” Bokuto said and smiled brightly, letting the song creep toward the surface of his mind. It was buoying his spirit before the first word even left his lips. 

_“I just wanna shine like the sun when it comes up, run the city from the rooftops, 'cause today is gonna be my day!” _His voice split the quiet morning air loud and clear, rolling like a second sunrise out of him. He watched Tanaka's face slacken in surprise. He let a thread of the magic spin into the words, its only purpose to raise spirits. It would bolster the bandits too, but that might lead to better treatment for all of them. It was a win/win consequence.__

____

____

_“I just want to climb to the top of a mountain. Standing tall when I'm howling, cause today is gonna be my day.” ___

____

____

He heard a 'whoop' go out and recognized Kindaichi's voice. He knew they'd needed it, needed him to strengthen their resolves and let them know that things would be okay. A face that he didn't recognize poked through the tent flap and then another. Tanaka turned to look at them.

_“Goodnight stress, see you in the morning. I don't gotta guess, you're always there for me. Sowing them seeds of doubt, I think you like seeing me freak out. Goodnight stress, see you in the morning...” _A few men shuffled into the tent, settling down next to Tanaka and watching him. This was...new. He'd never really sang anything for more than a couple of people, and even when he used his latent magic, the reaction was usually fairly subdued. But these bandits, they were drawn to him, patting each other's shoulders and smiling. A fresh wave of excitement washed through him.__

____

____

_“So I wake up! I get out of bed and stay up. Stay out of my head, 'cause it's dangerous. And I don't want to lose my mind, no...” _They just kept filing in, there was probably ten of them now, making the space cramped as they scooted closer to him, playfully jostling each other with arms around their comrade's shoulders. He'd always thought of bandits as vicious loner cutthroats, much like their leader had seemed, but these men were brothers. They looked at each other with friendship and devotion and it made Koutarou's whole heart feel warm.__

____

____

_“I just wanna shine like the sun when it comes up, run the city from the rooftops, 'cause today is gonna be my day! I just want to climb to the top of a mountain. Standing tall when I'm howling, cause today is gonna be my day.” _Then they were singing along with him! Someone even pressed a wet cloth to his face, cleaning off some of the sticky berry mixture that had died his hair, along with the blood from his chin. Was the magic really so powerful? That he could turn these enemies to friends in the span of a few notes?__

____

____

_“I used to lay low, hiding in the shadows. So don't give me dark days, I already had those.” _The men were nodding along with him, understanding blooming from their faces as they clasped each other's hands.__

____

____

_“I'm just trying to figure out, how to be myself right now. I don't wanna lay low, hiding in the shadows, no.” _There were now enough men in the small enclosure that he felt like he was singing right into some of their faces, but they didn't seem to mind. His spirit was so lifted that his shoulders bounced with the silent percussion only he could hear.__

____

____

_“So I wake up! I get out of-” _Koutarou saw only a quick shine from the metal before the dagger sunk into the wooden pole next to his head, close enough to sever a lock of his hair. He squeaked and fell silent and watched as noiseless panic fluttered across the faces around him. They all swiveled as the bandit leader stepped in, his face an icy mask of calm over simmering eyes.__

____

____

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had so many children in our company who would prioritize a tavern song over their jobs. Sadly, we do not employ children, so unless you can convince me otherwise, I'll be dismissing all of you.” His voice was quiet and smooth, having none of the edge he had used with Koutarou the day before, but the men reacted as if they had been bitten, flying into a frenzy of motion. He'd never seen a room empty so quickly. Within a second it seemed, only Tanaka and the dangerous Akaashi stood in the space before him. He could almost feel the tension between them. 

“Senpai, I can explain.” Tanaka stopped as if he expected the other man to interrupt him, but Akaashi merely crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. “Uh, he asked if he could sing. So the others would know he was alive, which would make things easier on everyone. I didn't see any harm in it. I didn't know everyone would come.” Tanaka was looking at the ground as the bandit leader stared at him, and Akaashi's dark gaze shifted over to Bokuto. He walked with purpose over to him and Bokuto turned his face away, afraid that he would hurt him again. He heard the thud as the knife came out of the pole and cracked his eyes open at the intimidating figure that stood before him. 

“If he's a distraction, gag him. I don't care if he sings, but if you can't do your jobs while he's wailing, then it's done. Understood, Tanaka-san?” His tone was much sharper now, as if his proximity to Koutarou were a whetstone to his intensity. 

“Yes, senpai.” With Tanaka's answer, he sheathed the dagger back into the strap around his thigh and turned, walking with purpose from the tent. Tanaka took a shaky breath afterward and the two of them locked eyes. 

“Eh...sorry,” Koutarou whispered and Tanaka sat down heavily across from him. 

“It's fine. Not your fault. I don't know why he's so high strung about you. But hey! Wow, that was awesome. Do all nobles know how to sing like that? We sing around the fire sometimes, but nothing like that...” Bokuto smiled at his praise and shook his head emphatically.

“No! My family actually hated it when I sang. They said I was too loud all the time. I'm glad you liked it. I...I hope I can sing more without getting you all in trouble.” Tanaka nodded his head vigorously in response, his face taking on a mockingly ferocious glare.

“I'll keep those fools in line so you can sing for us more.” Tanaka made a fist in the air in front of him in a tenacious promise. Bokuto's heart nearly soared. If he could win over the bandits, despite their leader, maybe he could get out of this. Additionally, he couldn't deny the fact that he really liked Tanaka. This was exactly the kind of guy he had always wanted to be friends with. He laughed and nodded his head, humming at the boisterous praise.

“In a few hours, we'll take you down to the river so you can wash more of that crap off of you. You'll be able to see at least one of your friends then. But, uh...” Tanaka scratched at the back of his head, his stubby nails loud against the close cropped hair, “until then, do you want to like, play cards or something? I can hold them and you can choose the card with your mouth?” Bokuto's eyes went wide with excitement. Gods, anything to feel like a normal person and banish more of these ever-pressing shadows of what his future might hold.

“Y-yeah! You might have to teach me, but I want to try!” A deck appeared in his hands like he had summoned it to him and he shuffled the cards in a fabulous display. 

“Don't tell Akaashi,” Tanaka said, one hand to the side of his mouth and a wink in accompaniment. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe he could handle this. He pulled his legs under him and leaned forward as Tanaka dealt the hands, stretching some of the still aching muscles in his shoulders. Akaashi was just one man. He wouldn't matter at all once Bokuto was free of this situation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, there's just a short bit of song in this one, but here it is and it's a delight!  
> [Bottom is a Rock – Mother Mother](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfepJQ_ALV8)

Days passed achingly slowly for Akaashi while he waited to hear from the Bandit King. It had been only three when he caught Tanaka with two others playing cards with Bokuto in the prisoner's tent. He'd walked in on them leaned around a low table, a card hanging out of the noble's mouth, as Tanaka huffed. His face was very red.

“You cheater!” Tanaka cried and Bokuto had smiled roguishly as he let the card drop from his teeth, revealing a Jack of Hearts. The other two men exploded in laughter as Tanaka shrieked in rage, drawing a dagger and waving it around in anger. Bokuto laughed and smiled along with them, his silver eyebrows waggling. The only thing that marked him as different were the bindings that kept his hands behind his back. Akaashi's eye twitched in annoyance and he whipped back the tent flap. 

The men froze and Tanaka went pale. Bokuto sat back against pole fast enough that Akaashi heard his head thud against the heavy wood. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, his inflection heavy on the first word. 

“S-senpai! We were just-”

“Spare me. Get out.” His tone was even and soft but the men leaped from the tent until only Bokuto remained, the table and cards taken with them. The warrior looked up with large, innocent eyes and it grated across him.

“I know what you're doing,” Akaashi told him, low and dangerous. He circled the center pole, leaning back on intimidation tactics of old. “The songs, the games, the banter, the way you look at people...” as he came around the other side, Bokuto looked up at him, but his face was scrunched in confusion.

“The way I look at people?” 

“Tch, I don't believe that you're as stupid as you look.” He'd come to stand in front of him again, his hands perched on his hips. Bokuto cocked his head, seeming to appraise Akaashi. 

“Well, I don't believe you're as terrible as you don't look.” Akaashi opened his mouth to respond, but the odd assemblage of words was struggling to find purchase in his brain. He stared at Bokuto a moment as he tried to understand what in the world he had just said.

“I...what?” All of his momentum seemed to grind to a halt. Bokuto gave him a hint of a grin, looking up at him from under his expressive brows, those amber eyes rich in the lantern light. 

“The way those guys talk about you, how much they respect you, I can't believe you're the terrible monster that you try to be every time you're in here. Men fear monsters, they don't love them. Trust me, I know. You don't have to pretend to be that. You already caught me.” 

“My men don't know everything about me.” 

“Yeah, well, if you were half as bad as you put on, you'd be out there tearing them up instead of in here trying to convince me you're scary.” 

Akaashi felt his face flush with anger and his dagger danced into his hand. He leaned over Bokuto who looked up at him without fear. He would have to scold his men. There had been at least some trepidation in this man's eyes when they had first taken him and whatever Tanaka and the others had told him had softened his disposition toward the bandit leader. That was a dangerous situation. The last thing he needed was for the the bandits to begin to see Bokuto as one of their own. 

“I wonder if they would complain if we gave you back less pretty.” He traced the tip of the dagger from under Bokuto's eye down to his jawline, keeping his face void of emotion. One of Bokuto's eyebrow's twitched up.

“You think I'm pretty, huh?” He smirked. Akaashi sighed and dropped the dagger from his face. He straightened and pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache was beginning to form in his sinuses. 

“I still haven't decided whether you'd be worth killing or not.”

“Fight me again.” When he looked at Bokuto in confusion, the warrior was leaned forward, an excitable grin stretched across his face. 

“Wha...no. Why would I do that?” But Bokuto's eyes were bright as he looked up at him, his body taut with anticipation. Akaashi took a step back from him. 

“Come on, Agaashi, You spar with your men all the time. And we barely got to fight! I want the chance to cross blades with you again, Please, I'm so bored here.” He was shuffling around dramatically, kicking his feet and leaning in all directions. It was a childish display, but somehow he just felt confounded more than annoyed.

“That's not how my name- No. I'm not a fool. I wouldn't give you the chance to kill me or escape.” Bokuto's eyes widened at his guarded response.

“We can just use practice weapons! I just really want to fight you again.”

“Why?”

Bokuto leaned back against the pole, lifting his chin with his face oddly serious. His eyes almost glowed in the low light. 

“Because I don't remember much of it, due to the battle rage, but fighting you...it left something in me. You move like faerie fire and I want to see it again. And remember it.” He looked up at Akaashi with such an honest gaze, his words so filled with genuine passion. Akaashi felt his face heat in a new way. The purple flame of the magical faerie fire was known to be almost mesmerizing in its beauty. It made him feel flustered and off-balance. Several retorts jumped through his mind, but he couldn't seem to grasp any of them firmly enough to roll off of his tongue. 

So he turned and left, without another word. He didn't stop and speak with the nervous Tanaka, he didn't check on his scouts, he simply went to his tent and sat in the dark. No one got to him. No one flustered the Talon of the Bandit King. It was likely just the personal connection weakening his mind. He looked toward the star-filled sky. He needed that raven to come. 

A few more days crept by, the general demeanor of his whole band raised each time Bokuto sang. Even now, he could hear him, far off at one of their bathing spots, singing loudly into the late evening air. It should bother him. It had for a little while, but now...

_“I go down to rise up! I get dirty just to clean myself off! I get dry to get drunk, I get pretty just to fuck my face up!”_

____

____

And he realized with a jolt that he was...smiling. Bokuto's rich voice almost always carried such upbeat positivity and layered the air with lightheartedness. It was amazing how much it impacted the morale of those around him. Akaashi had thought himself an unaffected observer, but lately that seemed to be changing. 

_“I get high to jump off! I go down to the bottom and I float up! I get found to get lost! I get dirty just clean myself off!”_

____

____

Was it possible that there was more to it than the sonorous voice of the young noble? He stood from his task of accounting, shutting the book and heading toward the smaller tent where the other berserker was held with the mage as guard. Terushima would certainly know if something magical was going on.

He opened the tent flap and was confused by what he saw. The smaller, blonde berserker was blindfolded and leaned forward, his bindings pulling his shoulders back. Terushima sat cross-legged in front of him, flame curling from his fingertips, though not in a hostile manner. His hands closed in an instant and he looked wide-eyed over at Akaashi, swallowing hard.

“What are you doing, exactly?” The longer these warriors stayed in his camp the more he felt like a parent to a bunch of teenagers. 

“Uh...he...he says he can smell magic. So I was...testing him...” Terushima was a good liar. Sometimes Akaashi even had trouble seeing through him. So the level of suspicion his stammering brought on made Akaashi question if it was even a genuine failing. He walked the few steps and yanked the blindfold from the severe looking man, who scowled at him. He looked him over and there were no cuts or bruises on him, just the rich black tattoos which snaked around most of his body. 

“Is he lying to me?” he asked the man smoothly.

“Hey!” Terushima objected, but Akaashi raised a finger and he fell silent. The berserker's eyes shifted from Akaashi to the mage and then back. 

“No,” was all that he said. His voice was gruff and edged in volatility. 

“You can smell magic?” 

“Yeah.”

“What a unique gift. Tell me, what do you smell when Bokuto-san sings?” He watched the man carefully looking for a tell, but it was as if that perpetual grimace were carved from marble.

“Nothing. Just honor and integrity. What do you smell, senpai?” He dragged out the last word, heavy with sarcasm. Akaashi leaned closer, satisfaction washing over him as the berserker leaned away looking uncomfortable.

“Blood and silver.” He turned to Terushima, who was staring at the ground, his face flushed. “Don't take it too far, Terushima. And keep an eye on that noble.” Without another word he stood and left. If the mage found that that berserker could smell magic, it might be worth trying to enlist him. Terushima's reaction was weird though. One more thing to have to keep near the forefront of his mind. 

Another few days slipped by and still no word from Nishinoya. It was mid-morning when he saw the raven overhead, one leg appearing thicker with a likely message. He'd seen it from one of the hides along the road and signaled to his patrol that he was going back to the camp but for them to stay on alert. He nearly ran to his tent, sliding the paper from the cord on the large bird's leg and dusting a lamp with the spellsand to make the writing appear. The message was simple. 

_They are coming for him. Do not let them take him until I give you word that they have paid._

____

____

The words melted away and the lantern returned to its orange light. He blew it out. As he left his tent, Tanaka and a group of his rowdy friends were leading Bokuto and one of the other warriors back to the holding areas. Bokuto locked his dusky gaze onto him and he tried to pointedly avoid it. He should have known better.

“Agaashi!” He sighed. Should he continue to try to correct the man? Was it even worth it? “You should fight me again! Your practice weapons are already out! Come on!” Some of the men were chuckling and Akaashi let his lips curve up just slightly.

“For the last time, I'm not fighting you, Bokuto-san. It holds no interest for me.” 

“I understand. You're worried you'll lose in front of all your men. It's a valid concern.” This pulled him to a stop like a hook through his spine. He heard the men around him gasp. Bokuto stood with his shoulders back and his chest out, nearly boastful despite having his hands bound behind his back. His hair was still wet from the river, falling in lazy silver and black patterns around his face. He seemed to gleam in the sunlight in a way that the lantern never fully captured. 

“I didn't make it this far giving in to such childish goading. I've already won.” But even as he spoke, he saw Bokuto's eyes crinkle just a bit at the edges as his smile widened.

“I mean, you didn't though. You ran.” This time, the dynamic shift was palpable. Akaashi felt it as the eyes of his men turned toward him, a question rising from the depths. They had been there, they had seen that he had not taken down Bokuto without threatening his friend and having the archers pump him full of arrows. He didn't care, as he felt he had little to prove. The company was a single animal and success and failure were not measured by one man, but by the group's ability to work together. But Akaashi was their leader. And they liked Bokuto. They liked him a lot. A quick calculation of the likelihood of events stated that this could be a problem if he didn't reassert his dominance in this pack of ruffians. It was a bother, but it was also part of being the leader. 

He picked up two wooden blades, curved like the ones he was used to. He set his belt with his actual weapons to the side. A whisper went through the men surrounding them. 

“Tanaka, cut him loose. Goshiki, keep your arrow trained on him. Someone go get Terushima.” He stepped back from the group and Tanaka unbound the berserker's hands. He led Bokuto to the practice weapon bin and the muscle-bound warrior took out two wooden hatchets, grinning the whole time. Much would be riding on this little exercise, but he would be better set to lose than not fight at all after that interaction. Still, he didn't plan on losing. Bokuto followed him into the sparring area and then took a low battle stance. The gray and yellow tartan of his kilt made his bronze skin appear to glow all the brighter. Akaashi's wooden blades bounced once.

Like a fire roaring to life, Bokuto charged at him, axes raised to his sides for a scissoring cut. It was wild and brazen, based mostly on intimidation and to get your foe to retreat, which would be the safest way to dodge. But this was not a true battle. The purpose of this was to remind his men why they looked to him and they followed him, and what would impact them the most was boldness and style.

So instead of dodging back, he ducked under the swing and stepped forward, straightening into the space between Bokuto's arms. It stopped his momentum, as they were now virtually nose to nose, and Akaashi slid the practice blades along the outside of the warrior's knees. Those golden-amber eyes widened and he took a sharp breath in. 

“I've just severed the tendons at your knees, Bokuto-san. I've already won.” A smug smile curled across Akaashi's lips and he heard his men go wild. Much to his surprise, Bokuto's face broke into a wide smile as well and he hummed in appreciation taking a step back. 

“I knew you were something special,” the berserker said, almost to himself it was so quiet, and a quick glance told Akaashi that none of the men had heard it. They squared up again. 

This time the approach was more cautious, and they met, parrying blow for blow, their twin weapons weaving around the space between them. Bokuto wasn't much taller than he was, but he was far broader, making for a bigger target but also being his superior in strength. If he ever stopped moving, if his weapons were locked together with those axes, he would be at a marked disadvantage. And the berserker was relentless, his press having Akaashi in retreat as he dodged around attacks. It was different this time, though. Bokuto was slower and his eyes were clear and calculating, unlike the pure adrenaline and instinct that had burned him up the last time they had fought in earnest. 

Akaashi side-stepped, swiping for his side, but the block brought both his blade tips down. He knew the mistake in an instant but thought he was close enough that he could avoid what would normally be the sharp edge of the incoming weapon. Instead of a regular attack though, Bokuto hooked the head of the axe behind his neck and jerked him forward. At the same time Bokuto smashed his head forward into Akaashi's in a brutal headbutt that made stars explode in his vision. Blood gushed from his nose and he took several steps back, holding an arm to it. A look of concern crossed the warrior's face. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Akaashi was already back into his field of threat, whipping around him, the taste of blood igniting his senses. As he pressed the attack from all sides, giving no quarter as he used his full range of speed and motion to overwhelm his adversary, he saw Bokuto's pupils begin to blow wide, that animalistic quickness begin to rise. The rage was beginning to take hold. He needed to end this quickly. 

A pinnacle moment arrived where Bokuto swung both axes toward him, the first slightly higher to throw off his dodge. If he ducked under, there was a good chance the second would catch him. It was a hard tactic to see mid-battle and it had been expertly deployed. But Akaashi could fight mid-air as well as low to the ground. Using his own momentum he had built by whirlwinding around the larger man, he leaped, feather-light and body parallel to the ground, spinning in the air over the blades. Bokuto's eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. When the bandit leader came down, he threw one blade at Bokuto, making him raise his axes to guard against it while the nimble rogue whipped low, popping up being him and leaping onto his back. Bokuto froze as Akaashi's knees tightened just above his hips and he grasped at the warrior's thick neck, his blade resting just above his arm.

Akaashi was panting hard through his mouth, his nose still clogged with blood, but as he looked around, he realized his men were speechless. He could feel Bokuto's heavy breaths as well and caught the sidelong glance the man gave him. 

“I think we're done here, Bokuto-san,” he said, loud enough so that all gathered could hear. A low laugh rumbled against Akaashi's chest, making him frown. Bokuto's head turned just enough for him to make out a sly grin.

“Shadow and faerie fire, just as I expected.” 

It must have been the battle rush, the blood loss from his nose, the heightened atmosphere as his men cheered. But the way those words broke across him as his body pressed against the hard muscle of this warrior ignited that flare beneath his skin once again. He released him, backing away once his feet were back on the ground. The way this man affected him was...it was a weakness. 

Bokuto stretched his arms wide, the muscles of his back shifting and drawing Akaashi's eyes to follow the curve of his spine down to where it met the waistline of his kilt. He wiped at the blood on his face, trying to suppress the hunger that had so quickly risen within him. 

“We should fight again, Akaashi. I could learn much from you.” Tanaka was binding his wrists again and he was looking over his shoulder at the bandit leader with that same ridiculous expression of excitement. Akaashi scowled at him. 

“That would serve no purpose. Why would I wish for my enemy to improve?” One of his men brought him a rag and he cleaned the rest of the blood from his face. As they led Bokuto away, the man's eyes still lingering on him, Terushima sauntered over with his usual cocky grin. 

“Well, that was certainly something.” Akaashi didn't give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment, but the mage looked to where the big warrior had disappeared inside the tent. “You were having fun. Admit it.”

“It was good stretch my limits. He's a capable fighter.” Akaashi was trying to freeze him out, dutifully hitching on his scabbard belt and turning away from the obnoxious mage.

“What did he say to you? There at the end. Did I hear something about faerie fire?” 

“It's none of your concern.” He'd already begun to walk away when Terushima's parting words, said quietly but with that hint of menace, made him falter.

“Just curious what made our fearless leader blush like a maiden for that brief moment.” 

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the song for this chapter! [Get You Alone – Sleeping Wolf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14syKuAf7SQ)

Koutarou woke with a start when the tent flap opened to allow the bright sunlight to pierce his slumber. He sat up, stretching and letting his back crack in several places. He was getting really tired of this godsdamned pole. 

“Hey, let's get you out in the sun where you can stretch, eh?” Tanaka asked with a genuine smile, skidding down beside him to loosen his binds so he could lean away from the central pole. A friendly hand under his arm helped him up and he got stiffly to his feet.

As he stepped out into the light, he blinked furiously as his eyes adjusted. He heard loud voices arguing and peered toward the intruding sound. The mage appeared to be shouting down one of the other bandits, who looked sheepishly at the ground. He couldn't quite make out what they were yelling about, but he heard Tanaka chuckle.

“Ah, here we go. That hothead never learns.” 

A figure came stalking out of one of the tents, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only dark pants. Koutarou's focus pinpointed as he realized it was Akaashi. His dark, curly hair was wet and plastered to his head, his brow gently furrowed. Koutarou remembered those eyes, deep blue like the infinite ocean, so dark he had thought they were black until he'd seen them under the sun in their duel. His body was lean and muscular, his skin pale in the morning light. Even though his countenance was cold and fierce, Koutarou felt his face burn as his eyes trailed along what felt like forbidden territory of his enemy's skin. 

Akaashi grabbed the back of the mage's robe and pulled him close, whispering sharp words to him that made the other man go pale. The mage stomped away and Akaashi turned away from them. Koutarou gasped. Wicked scars ran across his back, the lines pale and pinkish against his already light skin. They were streaked in crossing patterns that looked deep, old wounds that his body had healed from but that would leave tears in any man's mind forever. Scars like that were not received in battle or by accident. 

“Nobody knows what happened to him,” Tanaka whispered. “They're too deep for whip scars. Someone messed him up real bad. He used to be a direct agent for the old Bandit King, a Talon. Their missions were secret and brutal. It's amazing to me that he ended up as good as a guy as he is. Lady only knows what he went through.”

Koutarou kept his jaw tight. He couldn't imagine going through something so horrific. And then, having it heal completely naturally like that. It would have taken weeks, maybe months of constant pain. Akaashi's hand moved to the back of his neck and he dug the fingers in, massaging the area. Koutarou wondered if anyone else's hands had ever touched those scars, if they had ever pressed into his tight muscles and made him sigh in relief. Had lips ever brushed along his his spine and warm breath soothed the damaged skin...no. He shouldn't think those things. Especially about his captor. Akaashi turned his head and tossed a look toward Koutarou that felt like electric current through his veins. He swallowed heavily.

Tanaka walked him around, chattering excitedly about everything and nothing. They greeted the many men that had nearly become friends, would have been except for the bonds that held his wrists tightly behind his back. Friends, except that they were complicit in the ruination of his future. He'd tried to appeal to more than one of them in moments of rare privacy, but not one had budged. His desperation grew daily. 

A group of the bandits, including the mage and their enigmatic leader, walked he and Kyoutani down to one of the bathing areas by the river later that day. Koutarou had been relieved that their captors had allowed them so many opportunities to wash and shave and generally stay fairly comfortable. It was the only time he got to see his true friends, and being in their presence gave him some small hope. There were always five or six men standing watch over them, but today, as they settled into the rocky shallow water, lathering their soap cloths, they watched as most of the men left the little clearing. Quiet words were exchanged with the bandit leader and in moments, only he and the mage remained. 

Akaashi held a wicked looking crossbow leveled at them and the other man was more than capable of ranged attacks as well. He had a wide smirk, the usual arrogance that Koutarou had seen under his blonde tuft of hair grating against him. Kyoutani overturned the water bucket on his head, rinsing the suds from his hair. 

“Koutarou, sing,” he whispered sharply and Bokuto cocked his head to the side. Their backs were to their guardians and his fellow berserker dumped another bucket over himself, the water blocking the sound of his whispers from everyone but Koutarou. “Distract them.” 

It clicked into place. Kyoutani was always driven to action, no matter how reckless. He'd seen an opportunity here. After so many days of being watched and never trying for an escape, the bandits had become comfortable. Even though these might be the two strongest among them, suddenly their chances to escape seemed infinitely higher. They just had to incapacitate two people. How they were going to manage that naked, with just a bucket was a stretch, but he'd come to trust that Kyoutani knew what he was doing. The water was shallow enough where they sat that they would be able to dart from it quickly, the men only about twenty paces from them. 

“You mind if I sing?” he asked the two on shore. He sang most of the times they were at the river, so it wasn't an odd request. Generally he just started in and always sang uplifting music that everyone seemed to like. He watched over his shoulder as Akaashi rolled his eyes and the mage nodded. 

“Please, Bokuto-san! Perhaps one of your songs will put our leader in a better mood!” The blonde laughed and Koutarou's eyes tracked over to the dark man who gave him a piercing look but didn't object. Kyoutani lifted a stone from the water, just a bit smaller than his fist, and clacked it against a flat stone that jutted up from the water next to them. He lifted a second similar one with his other hand and struck them together. It was like...percussion. Bokuto's eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

His shoulders began to bounce with the rhythm and the song just rose up within him like it had been the only option all along. Distraction. Oh, he could make a distraction. He cast one more look at Akaashi who was scowling in disapproval.

_“Took a breath when you hit the surface, coming up never made a sound. How the hell could you look so perfect? Coming up, gonna take me down. How am I gonna gettcha, how am I gonna gettcha?”_

The sharp sounds of the striking stones were beating against him and it felt like the magic flowed even more freely than usual. He ran a hand back through his hair, leaning back so that his knees breached the surface of the water, showing that they were spread wide apart. He _wanted_ to distract them. He wanted to see that hunger in Akaashi again. 

_“I don't care what you think about me. I'm the first one to break facades. Can't you see that I have to have you? I could be the perfect bond. How am I gonna gettcha? How am I gonna gettcha alone?”_

He picked up the bucket and stood, still facing away from the duo, but he knew that they were looking. He could feel their eyes on him. The magic was bringing all attention to him. He even saw Kyoutani's gaze rake over him, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks as he continued the rhythm with the stones. Bokuto tipped his head back slightly and started to pour the water, slow, letting the rivulets of bubbles travel down his entire form with languid grace.

_“Pull me to the dark when you say my name! Take me to the edge while you lose control. Make me play a part in your wicked game. How am I gonna gettcha? How am I gonna gettcha alone?”_

He could feel it, in a way he never really had before, like a tide that washed out over his audience. It was a pull from the gut as he bent to refill the bucket he could sense the predatory gazes that were locked upon him thrum with anticipation. 

_“I can taste your wild perfection. Come and shake me to the core.”_

He turned slightly, pouring the water over his chest and shoulders, glancing their direction, but never meeting their eyes. They were in their same places in the small grotto, still as stone and it made a small smile quirk at his lips.

_“Let me be your one obsession. We could be a perfect storm. How am I gonna gettcha? How am I gonna gettcha alone?”_

He let the bucket drop into the water and with burning intensity he raised his eyes to finally meet Akaashi's. 

And he nearly lost the song entirely. Their eyes locked like a thunderbolt, the bandit leader's face so open and clear with fascination, his jaw slack and mouth hanging open just a bit. His face burned with a blush and the crossbow tumbled from his lap, never drawing a shred of his focus. His hands clutching the stump he sat upon as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He leaned forward, his eyes darkening with lust.

Hot desire flashed through Koutarou. Until now, everything had felt in his control, but with those eyes on him with such raw need...he drew in a sharp breath, feeling the press of the song and knowing that he needed to keep going. 

_“Pull me to the dark when you say my name. Take me to the edge while you lose control.”_

Oh gods, and he was speaking directly into the bandit leader, the words more true than he had even known. Koutarou ran his hands down his neck and over his chest, dropping his gaze away. He took a shaky breath and saw Akaashi stand. His presence was overpowering. 

_“Make me play a part in your wicked game. How am I gonna gettcha? How am I gonna gettcha alone?”_

Kyoutani's movements were mesmerizing, like he'd done this his whole life, but Koutarou saw his gaze travel behind them too, landing on the mage. The cocky bastard acted like he'd been struck, gasping and leaning backward, his face also rosy in the late morning sun as he stared back at Kyoutani's heavily tattooed form.

But Koutarou's eye was drawn ever to Akaashi, whose hand moved as if to reach out. At nearly that very moment, Kyoutani stood and shoved one of the rocks at him. It snapped him out of his stupor as he looked down at it and then at his companion as his arm shot back lightning fast. Years of training kicked in and Bokuto mirrored his movements so that they released the stones at almost the same time, using their adversary's distraction to gain the upper hand. The rocks sailed perfectly true, slamming against the two stunned men and laying them out from the impact. 

Kyoutani was off like a shot toward the mage, splashing Koutarou with the cool water as he cut across it. Guilt was nipping at Bokuto as he shook off the vestiges of the magic, running over to the downed rogue who was already starting to sit up, blood gushing over one eye from the point of impact from the rock. He looked dazed as Koutarou crashed over him, his eyes flickering down his body as panic registered on his face. 

Koutarou's fingers close around his throat, his other hand catching one wrist that had already flicked a dagger into it. He pushed it out so that the other free hand couldn't reach the weapon, closing pressure around Akaashi's neck, making him cough. His other hand clawed at Bokuto's grip that was slowly squeezing consciousness from him.

“I'm sorry for this,” he whispered quickly, a terrible sinking feeling in his gut as the man below him thrashed, his face now red from lack of oxygen as he gasped for breath. With a final lurch, he went limp beneath him. Koutarou held his throat tight for another few seconds to make sure he was truly out. He would be fine, but the twisting feeling didn't relent as he looked down on Akaashi's beautiful face, slowly paling in the sunlight. His grip loosened and he let his fingers glide across Akaashi's skin, grimacing as bruises were already blossoming where he had pressed so roughly. Touching him at all felt like a sin.

“The mage is out, get your clothes,” Kyoutani whispered to him, suddenly loud in the peaceful clearing. The other berserker was already pulling on his pants. With shaking hands Koutarou pulled free Akaashi's blades, tossing the dagger in the water and the crossbow into the brush. He pulled on his undergarment and kilt, tying the leg wrappings around his waist. There was no time to secure them now. He tossed one of the blades to Kyoutani and they moved to the edge of the clearing.

“Kindaichi and Kunimi!” Bokuto whispered but the severe berserker shushed him, leaning close to whisper more quietly. 

“They didn't intend us harm. They'll be fine, we need to get you out of here. We head downstream for awhile and then cross. They don't seem to extend their territory past the river, so we likely won't encounter a scout. We stay on rocks or in the water. And no sound. Now go.” The blonde berserker took a fast step toward the river and Koutarou went to follow him, taking one backward glance at the prone form of the bandit leader. And then he stopped. 

Kyoutani made it only a few paces before turning. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Come on!”

But something was wrong. Akaashi had moved, but not in a normal way. A long, thin, black vine connected him to the water and his body jerked toward the shoreline. The black rope or whatever it was, was wrapped around his ankle and it tugged at him, dragging him slowly toward the water's edge. Then he noticed another one begin to pull the mage as well. 

“No...,” he whispered and Kyoutani was by his side his anger melting as his eyes focused on what Koutarou was seeing. 

“Yuuji,” Kyoutani whispered and leaped into action, crashing back through the brush toward the men on the shore. Koutarou was right behind him. There had been no other option. The thought of leaving them behind had never even occurred to him. Whatever was dragging them toward the water would kill them, there was no doubt, and Koutarou couldn't stomach the thought of their blood on his hands just so he could escape. 

Kyoutani leaped over the thing that bound Akaashi, making his way straight for the mage. Koutarou brought the thin blade down on the vine that wrapped around Akaashi's ankle and a screech split the air as it severed. In the same moment the second tendril lashed away as well.

A disturbance in the water drew their attention as the black vines pulled back, leaking dark ichor on the sun-bleached stones. From the depths of the river, several meters from where they had been bathing, a huge expanse of ruddy, deep green flesh broke the surface with a rumble. It came forward at them fast, a nest of wicked yellow eyes blinking at them and a mouth large enough to swallow them whole, gaping with jagged teeth. More tentacles lashed from its bulbous body and Koutarou had to roll away to avoid their whip-like strike.

Kyoutani yelled his battle cry, the rage sinking into him as he charged forward, slashing wildly at the flailing limbs. The creature was so huge. How could they possibly defeat this thing? 

With the paralyzing fear, Bokuto felt the rage pound against him, ready to take the reins. He gave into it, feeling it burn through his veins and suddenly the battlefield became clear. He rushed in as well, hacking at the thing and getting close enough to score a deep red gash across its main body. A tentacle struck him in the face, opening a wound along his cheek that sent hot blood flowing over him, but it only spurred him on harder. 

Five arrows sunk into the expanse of amphibious flesh before him and in his periphery he heard men yelling. The monster bit at him, catching his arm with some of its vicious teeth, but he simply switched the weapon to his free hand, sinking it into the creature all the way to the hilt. A spear lanced into one of the eyes next to him, making the thing scream again and release his arm. He saw Tanaka and smiled at him, his brother in arms, as they faced the mighty beast before them. 

Other companions joined the fray, slashing and hacking, arrows thudding into it in volleys. Soon the water at their ankles were thick with dark blood and the last of the tentacles fell limp to the water. He was panting, his body aching from the strain and he turned to cry out in victory with the rest of them as they clasped each other's arms and shoulders. The rage began to slide from him, that sick exhausted feeling creeping over his body at the same time that his injuries began to scream into his mind. His eyes found Kyoutani and...

Confusion was the first thing - why was he on his knees? Why were they holding him down, lashing his arms together? Was something wrong with him? Then embarrassed shock as the memory flooded back through him just as two swords were leveled at him. No, no this couldn't be right...

Tanaka stepped in front of him, his hands on the blades of his allies, pushing them low. He was saying something, and Bokuto needed to hear it, so he strained his ears to try to focus on the words and understand. 

“Get off of him, too! Stop it! Can't you tell what happened here?” He was angry, waving his spear at the group of men who surrounded Kyoutani. The other berserker's eyes were fierce on the ground before him, but Koutarou saw the weariness beating him down from the rage's retreat. 

“They tried to escape! They knocked out Akaashi and Terushima!” A voice cried, but Tanaka turned toward it, his back still to Koutarou.

“And they're not fucking dead, are they?” He turned to look at Koutarou, who passed him a weary but thankful smile. He just wanted to rest. His arm hurt so much. 

Tanaka handed someone his spear and took off his belt, lashing it around Bokuto's bicep to slow the bleeding. He put an arm around his waist and raised Koutarou's other arm over his shoulder, helping to steady him as he walked him away from the dead creature. 

“Untie the other one! Right now! I don't want to see them bound until their wounds are tended. They just saved our boss and our sorcerer, regardless of what happened before that.”

“Thanks,” Koutarou mumbled and Tanaka just shook his head.

“You're an idiot, but I'm damn grateful for it. Why didn't you just run?” He almost looked mad, but Koutarou hurt too much to read into it.

“I'm not that kind of man.” It was all he could say. He didn't see Tanaka bite his trembling lip or see his eyes shimmer with wetness. He didn't hear the whispers of the other men who had grown to admire him so much over the past several days. And he didn't see Akaashi stare at him, hand at his own throat as his men tended to him, a look of shock unconcealed on his face for all to witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who says you can't win a fight with sexiness and improvised weapons, am I right? Okay, hopefully that wasn't too campy. 
> 
> What's up with Kyoutani, you ask? Why can he do so many strange things? Maybe I'll tell you. But not today! Muahahaha!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long, sorry. Hopefully it's not too much to throw at you at once. 
> 
> Two songs this time! First one is only briefly referenced but it's [Fighting – Saints of Valory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTFnIKDNvss).
> 
> The second is [Blood in the Water - Layup](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MWDwUzuZZQE). Lyrics were slightly changed to fit the setting. Enjoy!

Akaashi focused on his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of his blood flowing, drowning out the chaotic noise around him. He could vaguely make out Terushima's grating voice next to him, but he let the words slide off, none of them sticking. The sting as Tanaka spread the healing salve on his forehead was cleansing in a way, true and honest. Pain was always the most honest. 

His eyes were closed as he locked his mind tightly into control, barring his thoughts from any unwanted excursions. When he felt Tanaka's touch move to his throat, he gently took his wrist to move his hand away. 

“Don't. You've done enough for me.” He opened his eyes a sliver to see Tanaka's concerned face, still flushed from the heat of battle. He leaned closer as Akaashi had spoken softly, the tumult of voices around them likely drowning him out. 

“But senpai, the bruises...”

“I said enough.” His second in command looked away, nodding and moving on to Terushima. Goshiki had cleaned the gash at his temple, deeper than Akaashi's had been, and Tanaka spread the salve over it as well. His second was doing well, better than he would have expected. He had made sure the worst wound was treated first, Bokuto's arm, the skin nearly shredded as his bright blood had left a trail from the battlefield all the way back to camp. Both warriors were taken back to their holding tents, and Akaashi was choosing to believe that they had been properly bound there. He saw Tanaka continue to check on him, but he let the other man keep authority for the moment. He needed time to gather his scattered senses before he could process.

“Tanaka, please go check on the others. Goshiki, go with him.” They nodded and rushed from the tent, leaving him there with the mage. Terushima looked furious, staring at the ground. He rubbed at his ankle where the tendrils of the monster had been tightly coiled. They had twin bruises there and it was another piece to the puzzle that Akaashi was not allowing to fully fall into place just yet. 

“Tell me that it was magic,” he said to the mage. Terushima looked up at his question with fear in his eyes, though Akaashi had kept his voice soft and even.

“It had to have been. But I...I didn't recognize it. I don't know which of the two of them it came from. I don't know how it enthralled me so completely that I didn't see their attack. Could it have even been something with the monster?”

“How could it when the other two were unaffected?” 

“Their rage burns off the magic. Makes them more resistant.”

“They knocked us out, Terushima-san.” He looked at the mage from under lidded eyes and saw the other man's eyes flick down to his throat. “What did you find out about that berserker?” 

“He has magic sense, most certainly. It is definitely possible that it extends further than what I've been able to ascertain. He's very tight-lipped about it. The answer is, I don't know what happened. I don't know how they did that to us. I don't know why they came back for us. I don't fucking know.” 

Akaashi stood, his head swimming a bit as he took the first shaky step. He left the tent, oblivious to the cheerful voices of his men as he made his way to his private quarters. Sinking down onto his bed, he let his head fall into his hands. It was time to face things.

He had lost control. All of his years of training, some of them complete torment, to lose control like that...shame burned against his lungs, cut through with bitter self-loathing. He had given up denying the subtle attraction he felt for the noble, it was nothing unmanageable. He had held that beast at bay many times over the years with other men. He was forced to admit that the temptation had been growing, but the end had been in sight. He'd never once doubted that he would hand over Bokuto before his limits were truly tested. 

Sitting there at the grotto, he had kept his eyes trained away from the warrior's more admirable features. Cool confidence and well honed mental discipline made it easy. But the first crack of the stones had struck against his willpower with sickening affect. The moment Bokuto's voice had rolled over him, his rich tones pulling at the restraints that Akaashi had tied so tight around his own wants, his eyes had been unable to leave the man. The chains of control had vanished. Every movement had seemed suggestive, like it was aimed directly at him, and the words had moved against his skin with an almost palpable caress. He'd been unable to stop his eyes from following every line and curve of the man's body as the water had run down him, Akaashi's pulse quickening in betrayal.

When those amber eyes had met his, there was no question to their intent. His body had responded immediately, bringing him to nearly full hardness, painful against his leather pants, and still he'd stood. He had been pulled toward Bokuto, like a moth to flame, the glistening bronze skin begging to be touched. He could almost taste the sun-fire of it, yearned to know what the warrior's hands would feel like, the sounds he would make lost in pleasure...

The power of his own fantasy had been so strong that he hadn't reacted when other man stood, when the rocks changed hands, and when one had come spinning toward him. He'd known only the harsh impact, knocking him to the ground. Even then, even after the first blow of battle, when the warrior had fallen atop him, he had flooded with sharp desire, his main thoughts consumed by being taken there on the clearing floor for all to see. 

He dug his fingernails into his scalp, knowing, knowing and hating that he would have let it happen. Admitting to himself that before they had fully constricted his breathing, the fingers on his throat had made him mad with driving lust. He had been helpless. For the first time since he was a boy, he had been unable to act. Looking back, his free hand could have accomplished much to put him in a better position. He should not have been overpowered. In hindsight, there was so much he could have done, but with Bokuto pressed against him, bared flesh close enough that he felt the heat from his body...

If he didn't have control, then he had nothing. It had to have been magic. It had to have been. But how? Warriors, especially berserkers who functioned on pure instinct and adrenaline, should not be capable of any kind of the magic. He'd made a mistake those months back with the paladin, understandable since they almost never traveled without a cleric, but this was... 

A quiet voice whispered at the back of his mind. He could make them tell him. He had the skills for it. He could simply fall into that dark inner sanctum, let the sweet and wicked cruelty that had been nurtured by his former master take hold. Destroy that which makes you weak and you shall stand forever strong.

A sound cut through his innermost thoughts, a short burst of a shout cut short before a throat could have naturally closed around it. Muscle memory kicked in and he grabbed for his blades, but his scabbards were empty. Something was wrong. His eyes flew to the twin axes they had taken from the noble. 

He snatched them up, so heavy compared to his light blades, but they would do until he could find them. He rushed from the tent in silence. Things seemed normal, the men still tending to their wounds and chattering lightly. Tanaka stood up and met his gaze, cocking his head in confusion when he saw the axes. 

Chaos erupted around them. They had fallen lax on guarding their camp when the monster had attacked and apparently no one had gone back on scouting duty. People seemed to explode out of the underbrush which surrounded the camp, grabbing at bandits still tending their wounds as arrows and bolts whipped through the clearing. They were a smaller group than the bandits, but had caught them fully unprepared. Terushima ducked out of the tent before him and a crossbow bolt slammed into his hip. Akaashi grabbed him around the middle before he could fall and and pulled him into a tent behind him. 

As he lowered him to the ground, the mage cried out and Akaashi slammed a hand over his mouth. Fuck. The mage was their only way out of this. Without his magic they were-

“What's happening?” Akaashi turned with a start at the voice, realizing too late that the tent he had stumbled into was Bokuto's. They'd secured his good arm high above his head where he sat leaned against the pole, with his injured one bandaged and bound to his chest. His eyes darted to the side when Akaashi gave him a fierce look, that damnable flush breaking over his handsome features. 

“It appears that your friends have arrived to collect you. But they haven't paid your ransom yet.” He turned back to Terushima to see him gripping the bolt and he grabbed his wrist to keep him from tearing it free. “If you pull that out right now you'll bleed to death.” 

“You...you have my axes. If you cut me loose I'll fight them with you.”

“No! You'll just escape with them, and this will all have been for nothing. I'm not stupid.” He glanced back to see an angry scowl overtake Bokuto's face. 

“You must be if you think I'd go with them. The reason I've tried to escape is to NOT go with them. Our goals are aligned! Please, let me help you!” His eyes had taken on that pleading look again. Akaashi hated that. He hated how it sunk into him.

“You're wounded. You can't do anything.” Akaashi grabbed a vial of healing unguent that had been left, grateful for once, for Tanaka's lack of organization. He lathered a cloth with it, putting a knee on Terushima's chest to hold him down as he grabbed the bolt. He placed the cloth against it, ready to cover the wound. 

“Wait-” the mage let out a strangled cry as he pulled the bolt free, pressing the cloth down hard on the wound as he did. Terushima scrabbled beneath him, hitting at him, but Akaashi shifted to sit fully on his chest, keeping his hands over the wound, hoping the blood would stem quickly. Terushima clutched at his back, trying to wiggle his way free. 

“Hold still, or I will punch you somewhere that will stop your writhing,” Akaashi told him, grabbing his inner thigh to pinpoint exactly what he was referencing. The sorcerer went still with a whimper. He turned back to Bokuto, who he now faced fully. The warrior was giving him a hard look, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You know I can do plenty. Cut me loose.” His voice was low and dangerous.

“You can use magic, then.”

“That and my one good arm. Let me fight beside you.” 

Akaashi grabbed Terushima's hand, placing it firmly over the cloth, and then stood. With one of the axes, he cut through the bind that held Bokuto's good arm. To deny aid at this point was stupid, placing his feelings over rationale. He left the weapon buried in the wood and as Bokuto rose he pulled it free. He flipped it once with the utmost of ease, catching it and passing Akaashi a fiery grin, his teeth glinting white in the lantern light of the tent. The air almost seemed to shimmer around them for a moment. 

_“I'm gonna let you know, I'm not ready to fall, when my back's against the wall, I'm gonna come out fighting. I'm gonna come out fighting.”_

____

____

His voice broke through the tumult and Akaashi felt determination thrum within him. Better than any rousing speech of leadership, the inspiration in Bokuto's voice flowed like water, unstoppable and pure, and they both broke from the tent at the same moment. 

As they clashed against the enemy, the weight of the axe seemed lighter, easier to maneuver. He stayed close to the berserker, guarding his injured flank. Bokuto sang and they wove amid their enemies like a dance of destruction. As the magic in the song found their allies and they saw the two working in tandem, the bandits rallied as well, rising against the their assailants with renewed vigor. 

The mercenaries were baffled, not able to fully take arms against the man they were sent to collect. A huge man charged in at them, his flatblade swung with such force that Akaashi knew he would be unable to deflect it, and Bokuto shouldered into the enemy, wincing as his injury slammed against the brute. The guy looked with unbridled rage a the noble.

“Koutarou, we are here to rescue you! Stop fighting us!” He shouted.

“I'll die before I let you take me back.” The berserker bent low, his feet planted wide and is back an inclined plane. Akaashi saw the other warrior switch his grip and look toward Bokuto's immobile side. 

He reacted without thought. Two fast steps and a leap, his hand falling to Bokuto's shoulder, one foot planting against the back of the berserker's hip and he was up. He sprung into the air as his other foot catapulted from the thick shoulder. Their enemy barely had time to look up before the axe embedded into his skull and Akaashi crashed into him. 

He'd angled just right to land on top of the man as he fell, and stood on his broad chest, pulling the axe free with a sickening _crsh _and he turned back to Bokuto. The berserker had closed the distance and he was nose to nose with him, making him jerk back a step and gasp. Bokuto's eyes were dilated as he stared at him, his lips parted to account for his heavy breaths and his face flushed.__

____

____

“Gods, how do you fight like that...” he whispered breathlessly, his eyes taking in all of Akaashi's form and making his heart pound in his ears. 

“They're retreating!” Tanaka's clear voice called out and the men cheered. But dismay fell across Akaashi as he looked over their camp, noting that the bodies lying on the ground were not all belonging to the enemy. 

He reached toward Bokuto, taking the other axe from him, trying like hells to ignore the sparking brush of their fingers. The warrior's eyes never left him. The tattooed berserker with the blonde hair approached them and he sighed, seeing the other two prisoners free across the clearing as well.

“I see you're all out and about. Perfect.” He eyed the warhammer in the fierce man's grip warily, but he held it lax, the head near the ground. He didn't appear in the least bit concerned at Akaashi's sardonic tone.

“Where is Terushima?” At the reminder, Akaashi crossed the camp quickly to the tent and ducked in. The mage was ghostly pale, his eyes squeezed closed as he held the cloth against his hip. It was soaked through with blood. Shit. 

“Tanaka!” he called out behind him, but the berserker was pushing past him already, his weapon falling from his hands as he knelt next to the mage. Akaashi dropped down next to him, appraising the other man, but he seemed to carry no ill intent and there was no time to be overly cautious. He checked the pulse at Terushima's neck and it was weak, thready. The salve had failed. 

If wounds were too deep or major arteries or organs were damaged, there was little they could do. Few enough clerics were willing to work with them and healing potions were expensive commodities that were seldom available. He looked up to see Bokuto standing in the entry.

“Go check the bodies for potions! Hurry!” he commanded him and Bokuto's eyes slipped to the other warrior before he disappeared. Akaashi met the other berserker's gaze.

“I can fix him.” There was challenge in his eyes. 

“How?”

“Magic.” Terushima took a shuddering breath. If they wanted them dead, they would have just left them to the monster.

“Do it.” 

The blonde warrior lifted the hand and cloth that was pressed over the wound, dark blood welling in its place. He placed a hand over it and the black lines on his skin wavered, shining suddenly golden in the dim light of the tent. They twisted and coiled strangely, blurring like a mirage and running down his fingers to disappear where they pressed against the sorcerer. Terushima jerked, his eyes going wide as he gasped and Akaashi held him down, but he could scarcely look away from the man across from him. Everything about him shifted, his hard edges blurring as a halo of white light seemed to surround his whole frame. It was wondrous, awe inspiring, even as his expression twisted into a grimace. Beautiful in an infinite way, like a burst of starlight. 

When the light faded, the man looked weary and a bit gray. Terushima, however, was flushed with health, and the mage sat up with a start, clutching at his robes.

“What...what did you do? How...Kyoutani, what is this?” Terushima was stuttering in a broken voice and staring at his hands, running them over himself and the place where the wound had been. And the berserker...smiled. At that moment, Bokuto burst back in with Tanaka on his heels.

“We couldn't find any- Oh. You...you're okay.” He looked at Kyoutani.

“I thought you said he was dying!” Tanaka yelled, falling to his knees next to the sorcerer, touching his face and hands and looking him over. “Hey buddy, you good? You look all right.” 

Tears were streaming down Terushima's face and he looked over at Kyoutani. Akaashi had no idea what he had just witnessed, but it had shaken him to his core. The four men stood, Tanaka helping Terushima up. He looked over at Akaashi as he supported the mage.

“Uh...do you want us to...” He looked awkwardly at Kyoutani and Akaashi shook his head. 

“No. Leave them free. They've earned their place at our fireside.” Tanaka nodded, a smile spreading at the corners of his mouth. The three men left the tent, leaving only Bokuto standing in the entrance, watching them go with a smile. He turned his bright gaze to Akaashi, and he seemed happy. Content. Akaashi looked away from him.

“Not you, though. You're still our prisoner. Take you place at the pole.” The command wasn't levied with malice but Bokuto still retreated a step toward the opening.

“W-wait, but you said-”

“Those three are free to be among us, but you still have every reason to try to escape. I appreciate your aid out there, but it doesn't change the fact that you will be handed over once money changes hands.” And mostly because Akaashi wasn't fully convinced that he could maintain his control against whatever magic Bokuto could weave. He needed more information. He had hoped to give himself more time to recover before delving into this with Bokuto, but waiting had cost lives. 

Bokuto gave him a dark look and his eyes darted to where the axes set on the ground. Akaashi tensed. 

Tanaka's head poked out from behind the berserker, one hand raised and Akaashi let a hint of a frown spiral toward his second who gulped loudly.

“Ah, senpai, forgive my intrusion, but I think that given the circumstances, leaving Koutarou free might be for the best? I would watch him! Make sure he doesn't try to escape.”

“I'll consider it. For now, secure him to the pole, Tanaka-san.” He spoke evenly and Bokuto cast an angry look toward the ground, a 'tch' escaping him. Tanaka looked disagreeable, but led him to the pole where, he bound his free arm above his head once he had sat back against it again. Akaashi saw the warrior flex the fingers of his other hand.

“I want both of his arms secured. The other has healed enough.” With resentful hesitance, Tanaka removed the binding that held Bokuto's injured arm to his chest. He raised it slowly, bringing a grimace to the noble's face, as he wrapped the leather strap around it as well, binding it in place. As Tanaka rose and crossed toward the entrance, his face was tight and his brow was furrowed. Akaashi took his arm to stop him before he could leave.

“I am considering it, Tanaka-san. But I have questions for him first. Please make sure no one enters the tent.” His second gave him a wary look, but nodded and left. Akaashi opened a small hidden compartment in the lantern, taking out some of the precious spellsand. When he threw a pinch of it into the little flame, silence fell over the interior of the tent, the noises from outside immediately muffled. As he turned, Bokuto looked somewhat alarmed.

“I have questions for you that I'd rather the others not hear. Our voices will not leave the confines of this tent. Now tell me, Bokuto-san, what exactly are you and your friend? How are you warriors who can use magic?” Bokuto's eyebrows knit together as he seemed to consider.

“If I tell you what I know, can you promise I won't have to spend another night against this gods-forsaken pillar?” 

“I promise that if you tell me nothing, you'll spend every moment pressed against it until they come for you legitimately.” That earned him a harsher scowl and Bokuto seemed to deflate, slumping back against it and kicking his legs out wide. 

“Look, I don't know much about Kyoutani. He's a man few words. He has strange abilities, magic does weird stuff around him. Nobody knows anything about him from what I can tell, he's just...he healed that mage didn't he? Wow, he's really...something.” Akaashi had picked up one of his own swords, which must have been carelessly thrown to the side earlier when they had first brought Bokuto back. He moved to stand between the berserker's feet and tapped his knee once, lightly with the blade. 

“And you?”As the noble met his eyes, something simmered behind his eyes and the man's mouth ticked up at the side in a sly smile.

“I don't know what you're referencing.”

“Don't play games with me Bokuto-san. You won't like how I win.” His face and tone gave nothing away, but his threat was clear as the blade tapped once more at the warrior's exposed knee. His expression shifted into defiance.

“I save your life and you're threatening to torture me? I wonder what your men would think if you did? Do you think they'd still call you a good man? Do you think their loyalty would remain as stalwart?” Akaashi slammed the sword into the ground between Bokuto's thighs, making him jump and gasp in alarm. He dropped down to his knees behind the sword, his movements only grace and tranquility.

“I knew you were manipulating them. What is it? Some sort of charm? Suggestion? What have you put into our minds?”

“N-nothing! I didn't...it's just song magic! Just the little bit of bardic magic I learned over the years. I didn't put anything into anyone! It just pulls something out, inspiration, friendship...” his eyes flicked over Akaashi and he looked the side sheepishly, “other...things...”

No. No, that couldn't be possible. Akaashi had felt the pull of bardic magic before, in fact, Bokuto's song as they had left the tent fit that description perfectly, inspiring courage and hope. But what he had felt in the grotto, that had been something else. It had stoked his attraction into a living thing, an untamed creature which had devoured him. For that moment, he had been a slave to want. He had not lost control like that for over a decade, not since his brutal training to become a Talon, and that was something that bardic magic couldn't do. Even now, he could feel the cracks that had formed in his wall of resistance as he looked over Bokuto's strong jaw and broad chest, painted golden in the lamp light. The kilt that normally fell to his knees when he stood was crumpled partway up his thighs, the split showing more of one leg since they were spread. How could someone so physically powerful be so deliciously vulnerable at the same time? 

“You're lying.” Bokuto looked up at his statement fiercely, straightening his spine against the pole, his fists clenched tight above him. 

“I'm not,” he grated back through clenched teeth. Akaashi narrowed his eyes.

“Then do it again.” He stood, pulling the sword free of the rugs that covered the floor. He gave Bokuto a challenging look, cocking his head to the side. “Tempt me again, warrior-bard.” Bokuto's face flushed and his eyes were round as he stared up at the bandit leader. 

“N-no. You...I'm not going to...I-I'm at your mercy like this!” Akaashi's head cocked in the other direction. 

“What are you afraid I'll do to you, Bokuto-san?” He let a teasing lilt creep in to his voice and he pressed the tip of the blade lightly against the warrior's inner thigh, dragging it slowly down to his knee. When his eyes met Bokuto's again, there was a hungry look there, one that licked at his skin like flame. 

“If I can't stop you, you might do something you'll regret.” Bokuto's voice was rough and the insinuation behind the words he'd chosen were not lost on Akaashi. He felt his heart rate quicken. No. The goal was to maintain control. He had to prove to himself that he could restrain his actions under the influence of this man's magic. He turned away from him, taking a step toward the entrance, the sword resting against his shoulder. 

“Stop me from me leaving, or spend another night against the pole. Your choice.” He took a single step before the warrior's voice pounded against him, sending a shiver through him like a hot breath against the back of his neck.

_“I don't know what you've been told, but this here is not your home. If you want some trouble, you want some.” _Akaashi moved the sword from his shoulder, steadying his mind against the assault he knew was coming. He staked it into the ground and turned. Bokuto's eyes almost glowed in the lantern light, warm and honey-gold as they beckoned to him.__

____

____

_“Come on in and I'll take hold. These hands will break your bones. If you want some trouble, you...” _He'd drawn one leg up, leaning forward against the bindings, his broad chest pushed outward. His face was angled slightly down, making the way his eyes met Akaashi seductive in the low light. The magic prickled through him, obvious now that he knew it for what it was, but it didn't change how it affected him. His feet brought him closer.__

____

____

_“When I see you, I see, I see blood in the water. Oooh, Run deep, it runs deep, blood in the water. You, I see, I see, blood in the water. Oooh. Try me, try me, you'll see blood in the water.”_

____

____

He realized with a small gasp that he had crossed the room and now stood before the warrior. Bokuto's head tipped back as he shifted, the movement of his body, despite the restrictions, was enticing. The dark leather straps tight against his bronze skin...perhaps not despite, but because of them. The bandit leader still felt like he could walk away, if he wanted to. A small voice at the back of his mind whispered that he couldn't know if control could be maintained until he touched the man. Yes, if he could touch him and still walk away then nothing could break him. He pulled off one black glove with his teeth.

_“I'll let you know, I break down slow. I decompose like solid stone. You want some trouble? Oooh, come get some...” ___

____

____

Akaashi sank to his knees before the man. He was so close it was intoxicating and he wanted to touch all of him, feel his heated skin and make his clear voice waver. He slid his fingers up Bokuto's thigh to the hem of the kilt, only slowing but not stopping as he pulled off the other glove with his teeth. Bokuto watched his mouth, his face only inches away.

_“If you're here to shake my home. I'll knock you down like dominoes. You want some trouble? Oooh...”_

____

____

His fingers traced up Bokuto's abdomen and chest, lazy and slow, though every inch of flesh burned against him. He wanted more, was greedy for the feel of him, and the harsh and rapid beating of his heart made it all the more tantalizing. Akaashi licked his lips.

_“When I see you, I see, I see, blood in the water. Oooh. Run deep, it runs deep, blood in the water.” ___

____

____

Bokuto's voice was so close to him, rumbling against his resolve as he raised his eyes to meet those devilish amber ones. His palm splayed on Bokuto's chest, his other hand pushing higher against the fabric over his thigh, as he leaned forward, his nose almost brushing the warrior's. His lips parted and he breathed in, close enough to the noble's mouth for him to feel it. He could taste his warm breath and he felt the lapse of the song, silence where the beat had called for more lyrics. His blood pounded through his veins, the heady rush of being on the precipice of giving in was so exquisite. 

He felt Bokuto lean into him and pulled away just before their lips brushed. The berserker's eyes were lidded, his face bright with a red glow of blush and he refocused on Akaashi as he pulled his hands away. Triumph bubbled within his mind. He had fought it off, despite its power. He had remained in check.

His victory was short-lived as he felt Bokuto's legs wrap around his waist. They locked together behind him and when he tried to pull back, those powerful thighs tightened at his hips, pulling him back in. Off-balance, he fell forward, catching himself against Bokuto's arms. He realized too late, as hot breath played across his throat, just how close they suddenly were. Searing lips brushed against his neck and he gasped. No one had touched him in so long with any intent but violence or mild camaraderie. As Bokuto's mouth opened against his flesh, tasting him with a slow and languid lap of his tongue, Akaashi couldn't move, a huff breaking from his mouth. Bokuto groaned against him, teeth scraping at his skin. Control slipped further from his tentative grasp.

He had to pull away. Arousal clutched at him hard in a way that he knew would soon become noticeable, given how he was now pressed so close to the warrior. He had to stop. He had to stop him. 

“Enough,” he said, but there was no biting command to it, just a whispered plea more than anything and the mouth at his neck pulled hesitantly back, angling up toward his ear.

“Don't stop,” Bokuto whispered against him. His body leaned in, against his will and it made anger rise above the heady lust. It cleared his mind just long enough for him to get his balance and grab Bokuto's throat, pushing him back against the pole. 

“I said enough. Release me, now,” Akaashi growled. The pressure at his hips released as Bokuto's legs fell away from him. He looked down once he could move back, to the noble's upturned face, his lip held tightly between his teeth and his eyes squeezed shut. Such reluctant obedience...it was so enticing. It made Akaashi wonder how far he could push him, how good he would be if given the right impetus. Dangerous thoughts when he was grappling with his own self-control. 

He stood and took a step over Bokuto's leg to circle around the pillar. The warrior never looked at him, pulling his legs up close to his body. Akaashi let a hidden smile tug at his lips. It had been a fluke. Yes, Bokuto had magic and it certainly affected him, but now that he was aware, he couldn't be overpowered by it. That was all that mattered. He pulled the tie that released the warrior's wrists and Bokuto gasped in surprise.

“I'm convinced your power is of no concern. But know that if you abuse this privilege, I'll have you bound and gagged for the remainder of your time here.” He walked quickly to the tent flap, opening it and breaking the spell, letting the sounds of the camp around them infiltrate the space once again. Tanaka waited just outside and he tapped at his second's shoulder. The man whirled around, wide-eyed, and his gaze darted over to Bokuto's form behind Akaashi.

“Tanaka, he is free to mingle, but you will not take your eyes off of him. Don't make me regret this decision. Much is at stake.” Tanaka nodded sharply and rushed past him. It would make his men happy, to play comrade to the charismatic berserker. The draw to look back at him was strong, but Akaashi fought it. His body ached from the experience and though it had been a long time, he felt the need for some self-release. It would help to quiet the incessant pleadings of his mind. 

Soon the raven would come. Once the noble was gone, peace would return. Until then, he would manage however he could. He went straight to his private tent, securing the flap in place before settling back on his palette and letting himself fall into the memory of Bokuto's sweet submission.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to get some Bokuto backstory here! Just so you know, the character referenced is not a Haikyuu character, so don't worry, you're not missing anything. 
> 
> Here is Bokuto's song for this chapter [Boys Club – Ivory Hours](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSkmak-vyn4)
> 
> Enjoy!

Koutarou was having trouble catching his breath. As Tanaka hauled him to his feet, he rushed forward to the tent flap to duck out just in time to see Akaashi disappear into another tent. The symbol of a golden owl hung on a banner outside of it. He committed it to memory. 

“Hey, uh, you okay? He didn't like, hurt you or anything, did he?” Tanaka's hand fell on his shoulder. He breathed around the burning in his throat, willing away his pounding desire with the presence of the other man. He had hurt him all right, in a few ways, but none were what Tanaka was asking about. He swallowed heavily and plastered a smile onto his face.

“Ah, no, no I'm fine. I'd like to check on Kyoutani, if that's okay? He was looking pretty rough.”

Tanaka nodded, patting him on the back affectionately and led him over to one of the campfires. He saw other men around the camp with dour expressions, arms around each other. Some of them wept openly. In the haze of what had just happened, he had forgotten that the attack had robbed the bandits of some of their men. Perhaps he could make a difference, ease their troubled hearts, once he had checked on his friend. It was what he was the best at, after all.

Kyoutani sat on one side of the little fire, the mage on the other. Terushima, Akaashi had called him. He should probably remember that. He looked good, better than good, better than before the wound even, his skin nearly glowing in the firelight. But his eyes were fixed on Kyoutani, who looked uncomfortably away. Koutarou sat down beside the other berserker, noticing his forward slump and drooping eyelids. His tattoos looked different somehow. 

“Hey, you okay? You look kinda rough there, buddy.” Kyoutani glanced at him, his eyes darting to the mage and then back to the ground as Koutarou's question hung in the air.

“Yeah, m'fine,” he mumbled, looking sheepish. When Bokuto looked back across the fire, the mage's eyes had fallen on him, their intensity sweltering. 

“Do you know how he did it, Bokuto-san? He won't tell me. He saved my gods-damned life and he won't tell me how.” He looked and sounded almost angry. Koutarou peeked over at the berserker who had a ghost of smile across his lips. He shrugged.

“I don't know. You think he'd tell me?” He watched as Terushima's face flushed red in response to him and Kyoutani stood, sauntering off to the tent he had been held in. The mage ran a hand over his face.

“When he healed me,” he whispered, making Koutarou lean in closer to the fire to hear him, “I, I saw things. More than just saw. I felt them. It was like standing on the edge of paradise, feeling warm wind on your skin, fragrant like the sacred flowers of the temples. Sunlight stretched over a verdant field and it felt like...home. It felt like home, Bokuto-san. Nothing has ever felt like home to me until that. I-” his voice broke, emotion twisting it to shreds as he clamped a hand over his mouth. 

“I don't know, Terushima. Magic does strange things around him. I didn't see what happened when he healed you, but I saw a light come from the tent. It reminded me of sometimes when were riding, he would get this far off look and the sun would shine on him and I could swear he was golden, for just a moment. But it always passes so quickly. He never talks about it. He seems to like you, though, so maybe he will tell you. He might just not be ready to yet.” He shrugged again, hands held out and palms up. The mage sighed heavily and got up, walking to the tent the warrior had entered. 

“Hey Bokuto, c'mere! Some of the guys want to hear about that monster!”

The next couple hours were spent regaling the men with the battle story. It helped to ease the terrible weight of their lost companions, along copious amounts of liquor they all seemed to be imbibing. He didn't shy away from how they had knocked out Akaashi and the mage, despite Tanaka's nervous glances. They loved it. He found that they were moved by the fact that he'd gone back to save their leader. That strange and ever present loyalty was so curious given his interactions with the bandit leader. He left out the specifics on how he had distracted them, not wanting to reveal too much. But by now, after what happened in the tent, he had a very strong feeling that his attraction was a two-way road. If only he knew for sure it hadn't just been the magic.

The men at this campfire got up and left, taking laughter and warmth with them. It was farther from the main part of camp, more isolated and surrounded by trees. Tanaka gave him grin across the fire, his face flushed from the alcohol the bandits had been partaking in. Bokuto tried to smile back but there was trouble clouding his mind. All of this felt too familiar.

Growing up in the cold stone of the castle had been lonely. His sister was always busy being groomed to be a lady and he didn't attend any lessons or activities with other children. At 14 he had finally gotten exposure to other kids his age when the local noble houses had brought their children together for a tournament of sorts. It had been comprehensive, mostly boring beyond the sporting trials, but thrilling to meet others. Most of them were so formal and stuffy it was hard to connect. He was constantly torn between being himself and being what he was supposed to be. He was so excited he could burst but most of the other boys were cold, seeing him as a competitor, not a potential friend.

It was during the archery tournament that he had first laid eyes on Toshiro. He was thin and fragile looking, but something about his face and the way his body moved had stirred strangely in Koutarou. As he'd pulled back the bowstring, smooth and precise, his eyes piercing as the arrow flew true, Koutarou had felt the shock ricochet into his own chest. His face was so severe, always downcast. When he had approached after the tournament (which Toshiro had won, handily) there had been a terrible fluttering in his chest and words had failed him. But Toshiro had looked him up and down and given him a sly smile, introducing himself in low, soft tones. His hand had been so cold when they shook in greeting. 

Koutarou had asked his father if Toshiro could tutor him in archery and the Lords of the two Houses had both agreed. He had looked forward to nothing in his paltry life like the three lessons a week he took with Toshiro. They became a sort of friends. Toshiro was mean, his comments always biting, but he was nicest when Koutarou followed his instructions exactly. So he had learned. Not archery, so much, but the simmering pleasure of obeying his friend perfectly and receiving the rare praise. He also, in absolute secret, lived for the brush of his hands, the moments he stood so close that Koutarou could feel his breath on his skin. Toshiro was the first person to awaken desire in him, that raw and powerful beast that clawed against his insides. 

He had been sure then, as well. Sure that it was not one sided. That the moments that Toshiro's arms wrapped around him to assist his aim were just as breathless for the other boy as they were for him. After months of holding himself back, of fighting his mind and body against the magnetic pull of his tutor, he finally had let it free. He had kissed him. His first kiss, hasty and foolhardy, fumbling in the dizzying whorl of emotion that had pressed him inexorably toward this person. 

That was the last time he had ever seen Toshiro. The boy had been disgusted, shoved him away, called him terrible names and broken him with the shards of his own shattered heart. He remembered watching him storm off, tears blurring his retreating image, wondering if he would ever see eyes that blue again. If his heart would ever beat properly again.

Was that what it was? Akaashi's affect on him was so much like Toshiro, but with the knowledge and experience he had lacked back then. He looked different, of course, but there were things about him that stirred the same way within Koutarou. And his eyes...they were so deeply blue. Different from Toshiro's in that they were dark, but the storm within them compelled him all the more. It wasn't that Toshiro had been his only crush. A stable hand had taught him many wondrous things when he was 19, the many pleasures that two men could find with one another. Up until they had been discovered and he had been banished from the estate. Any other dalliances had been brief and fleeting and devoid of that bristling want that only bloomed a few times in a lifetime. 

The more he had watched Akaashi, the more he knew that it was the same. More than anything, he felt the same wild rush of exhilaration in how Akaashi responded to his obedience. He should be fighting it with everything in his power, making life hard on the bandit leader and being a thorn in his side. But the subtle flush of pleasure the man displayed each time Koutarou did just as he asked...it made him shiver. It was so much more powerful than what he'd seen as a boy, no doubt due to whatever Akaashi had been through. His cruelty was so much quieter, less cutting than Toshiro's had been, but it gave it more weight somehow. And now Koutarou knew how to take a man apart in ecstasy and he desperately wanted to use those skills on the bandit leader. The taste of his skin had been like a single morsel to a starving man and he wanted more so badly it was strangling him. 

“Hey, you okay?” Tanaka asked, and Koutarou looked up, realizing he had been spacing out into the fire for awhile now. He smiled and nodded. “Okay, well I gotta take a piss, so, I dunno, like, sing or something so I know you haven't run away? A man needs his privacy.” 

Tanaka got up, stumbling slightly as he teetered toward the dense woods surrounding them. He looked back at Koutarou and flicked his hand in a 'well?' kind of gesture and Bokuto turned back toward the fire, smiling and shaking his head.

_“I was never in the boys club, no. My voice wasn't low enough. Walked the hallways alone.”_ He didn't let the magic into it, just sang the words. He'd been thinking of this song for awhile now, but he knew if he put any power behind it, it would not be appreciated. It was keyed too closely to his emotions right now. It felt good to let it out though, knowing that it would be too quiet for most anyone else to hear it other than Tanaka. 

_“Fell in love from a distance without saying anything. Watching everyone else sink their teeth into life.”_ It was how he felt, watching the world spin around him while he stood still, shackled to his bloodline. All these men here, they were free. Sure, they had their leader and he had his, but they could choose to leave if they didn't like how things were going. They could choose to do anything and no one would bother to stop them. They could disappear. They could laugh loud, love hard, live life without hands holding them in place. 

_“Woooo, woooo, I wanna be the one you dream of. Wooo, wooo, pull me into the flames. I wanna be the one you dream of. Woooo, woooo, pull me into the flames.”_

He imagined a different world where he had met Akaashi on the road as just a simple warrior. It would have been so much better, none of that animosity attached to his name, no job where he had to be turned over to an enemy. Maybe he would join the bandits, or better yet, convince Akaashi to join the Great Horns. If it wasn't just his magic, this is. 

_“When nobody wants you, it's like you're already dead. Walking in their shadow, and haunting their footsteps. Just calling, but nobody hears, just a lonely tree falling, no witness here where I dream.”_

He wondered if anybody really saw him. Saw through the bluster and the jokes and the positivity, to the lonely, desperate man beneath it. He wasn't good at hiding things, but no one seemed very interested in seeing the truth. They didn't want to see all his imperfections. He wished he didn't have to see them either.

_“Woooo, woooo, I wanna be the one you dream of. Wooo, wooo, pull me into the flames...”_ He felt some prickling sense at the edge of his mind and turned to see Akaashi standing at the edge of the fire's light. He was looking at him, his face that mask of serenity he so often wore. He wasn't wearing his black leathers or his weapons, just a loose-fitting white shirt with the laces at the front hanging undone and a pair of dark brown trousers. He painted so much softer of a picture dressed like this, no doubt what he slept in, and it made Koutarou's heart constrict just a bit. 

“He's left you on your own already?” Akaashi said, placing his hands on his hips, disappointment in his voice. 

“N-no, I, he just had to go, you know, empty the waterskin. That's why I was singing, so he could hear that I hadn't run off. I wasn't using magic, I swear.” Much to his surprise, Akaashi took a few steps and sat down next to him, a couple feet away, running a hand back through his dark hair. The bruises on his neck stood out so stark against his pale skin and white shirt and it made Koutarou grimace. The one time his hands had touched him, and he had left those. He hated it. 

“And yet, you've stopped singing and he is nowhere to be found. He is no doubt asleep somewhere. The man cannot hold his liquor.” He picked up a small stick and flicked out a knife, beginning to shape the thing. Koutarou drew himself in smaller. He had no idea how to interact with this man. His heart beat loudly his ears and he bit his lip as he looked away. 

“Why did you save us, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi's knife had stilled against the wood but he stared into the fire.

“I...I couldn't just let you die.” Akaashi looked at him, square in the face and his expression was cold.

“Yes, you could have. Should have, in fact. You are a complete idiot for not taking that chance to escape. It's the only one you'll have. You should have run.” Bokuto frowned in response to him. Anger flared in his chest.

“My freedom wasn't worth your life. Period. If it had been, Kyoutani and I would have just killed you both. Would have been easier than knocking you out. But I couldn't stomach having your blood on my hands.” A sigh escaped his captor as he looked back toward the fire. 

“I have no sympathy for you. You squandered your only chance to escape. It's your own fault you're here.”

“Yeah, well, you're welcome.”

“I'm not thanking you. It was your fault I was ever in any danger to begin with.”

Koutarou felt his lip jut out in a bit of a pout, his face heating in frustration. 

“Why did you do that to me, in the tent? Why put me in that position, huh? Do you always torment your prisoners like that?” The words fell out sharp and he watched Akaashi stiffen and glance around. He leveled Koutarou with a cold stare. 

“No. I had to know that I could stay in control around your magic. That's all.” Was that...were his cheeks tinted red? The firelight made it so hard to tell.

“My magic, huh? That's it?”

“Yes.” He went back to whittling the small piece of wood but now Koutarou was annoyed. 

“You've kind of got a problem with control, don't you? It's why you keep everyone on such a tight leash and run this place like a guard station. Why despite their respect for you, all your men also fear you. Is that why you're so harsh on following your King's rules as well?”

“I don't have a 'problem.' Control is what keeps things working. Without control, I have nothing.” Those words fell like a hammer. They opened up something about him that Koutarou hadn't really seen before. He believe that control was what gave him power, but Koutarou saw through it. It was keeping him bound, never letting him be himself. That was a feeling he could relate to. 

“I've never had control of anything in my life. Someone else has always told me what to do or who to be. I didn't even get to choose what clothes I wore. That week on the road with the Great Horns was as free as I've ever been in my whole life. And you know what, controlling myself was the last thing that felt good or natural. I let myself breath and let out everything that was really me. I've never felt better in all my life.” The knife had stopped moving against the wood and Akaashi was looking into the fire. He sighed a small breath and closed his eyes.

“Well, you are very stupid.” 

“Actually, my education is of the highest caliber and it, along with my intuition, is telling me one thing right now.” He shifted over to look at Akaashi full on and the rogue turned to look at him as well, some trepidation in his dark eyes. “You think that control is the only thing holding you together. But it sure seems like its doing more to keep you pulled apart. You're obviously not happy. You're not doing any of the things you _want_ to do. You're just watching the time slip by, trying to hold the world together like it will shatter if you don't. But it does keep going, even if you let go.” Akaashi's expression had shifted as Koutarou spoke and he now looked at him with his eyebrows slightly raised and his lips parted. His beauty was like hot iron pressed against Koutarou's skin, blistering and cauterizing all at once. They were so close. The way the fire danced across him...

“You...you don't know anything. You're just a spoiled noble's son, afraid of his own responsibilities. You can't say that to me and-” his words fell away as Koutarou's fingertips found his jawline, drifting up toward his ear and around to the nape of his neck. He sucked in a breath but he didn't pull away and Koutarou leaned forward, close enough so he could feel his breath on his lips. Akaashi's pulse raced beneath his hand.

“You're a mean, awful little man. But I can feel your heart beating like a dragon's wings, and it calls to me.” 

When he pulled Akaashi the rest of the way, he met no resistance. His lips fell over the bandit leader's, gentle at first, coaxing, until he felt his jaw slacken. Then he pressed into him, sweeping his tongue against the rogue's teeth until he relented, opening wider and flicking his own tongue against Koutarou's. Gods he tasted like heaven, sparking burning hot and freezing cold in Bokuto's veins as he kissed him, more and more passion flooding into it. His hand drifted down Akaashi's throat, his thumb dragging feather-light over his collarbone. 

Want beat against him, thick and forceful, and his thumb hooked in the shirt, the pulling it forward and Akaashi along with it. His hand landed on Koutarou's chest and the rogue pulled his mouth back, his teeth snapping together. He made an exasperated noise and Koutarou chased him, bringing his lips to the man's throat, soothing the bruises there with his tongue. The hand against his chest pushed at him, first too soft to move him but then with strength that made him pull away. Akaashi's face was flushed, his eyes refusing to meet any part of Bokuto as he frowned into the fire. He closed his eyes. 

“Akaashi. T-take me back to your tent. Please.” He leaned in to kiss him again but Akaashi turned his face away. He felt pain lance through his heart. No please, no. He had kissed him back. He had. 

“No. I take no lovers. It's not...” A pained look crossed Akaashi's features as he stood and looked down at Koutarou. He seemed to consider something for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. It was such an honest look, complex in its layers, but within it, Koutarou found longing. He reached out and brushed his fingertips across Akaashi's palm. He didn't pull away, but he shook his head. 

“I'm sorry you're in this position, Bokuto-san. I...” he took a step back, pulling away. “I wish things were different. I will consider your words though. They have moved me more than I would have thought.” He ran a hand through his hair again and melted back into the shadows. 

He had been different in that moment. The hard shell that he always wore had fallen away. He'd looked at Koutarou like a person and there had been true emotion in his words. The berserker sat with his hand still outstretched, conflicted. 

He heard harsh words and a startled cry, undoubtedly Tanaka being woken and scolded, and his almost-friend stumbled out of the trees. 

“Hey, Koutarou, come on, let's go back to the main camp. Akaashi is mad. He said he was gonna hobble me and use me as bait for more river monsters if I don't keep an eye on you properly. Haha, he's the best.” Koutarou cocked his head and smiled as Tanaka laughed. What a strange relationship they all had with each other here. Still, he let the man lead him back to the circle of tents. 

As they passed one of the tents, Koutarou heard a muffled cry and he peeked into the dark interior. It became quickly apparent that it had not been a cry of suffering. He could see the mage straddled over someone, his legs bare beneath his robes and his head back as he moved rhythmically over them. His mouth hung open, heavy pants issuing from him. A hand reached up to caress his face and neck and...oh. The arm was decorated with black tattoos that he knew all too well. They were...doing exactly what he wanted to be doing. He bit his bottom lip as he watched Kyoutani flex his hips up, moving Terushima and dragging another quiet moan from him. Wow, they were...so...he felt the arousal he'd been working so hard to control rush into his abdomen. He'd done a lot of things himself, but he had never actually seen two men together like this before.. His face and chest felt hot and he wanted to keep watching them, wanted to see them as reached the precipice, because gods, was it stimulating to see them like this, coming undone wrapped together.

But Tanaka pulled at his arm, dragging him toward the larger central fire where many of the bandits sat talking. Ugh, Koutarou didn't want to face them right now, wasn't entirely sure his sporran would hide what the events of the evening had culminated in as the images of his friend and the mage were still fresh in his mind. He wanted to find Akaashi. Right now. 

As Tanaka's grip on his arm loosened, he pulled away gently without bringing notice. He slipped toward the tent with the golden owl on it. A blue light flickered within, but he hesitated for only an instant as he heard the bandit leader sigh. 

When he stepped in the tent, Akaashi's eyes snapped up to him. He was holding a small scroll of paper up to a lantern that's flame was blue, casting the bandit leader in cold, stark relief. His eyes widened and he blew out the flame, blanketing them in darkness.

“What are you doing here, get out!” he whispered harshly. There was fluttering of wings to Koutarou's left and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw a raven. Fear welled in his chest, taking up space that air should be held in. His heart pounded in a different way.

“A raven. A message. Then...” 

“Your ransom has been paid. They will come for you tomorrow.” 

“No, no please!” He rushed to the bandit leader, falling to his knees in front of him. He had run out of time. But there had been a moment of softness in Akaashi and he begged the gods that it was enough. He couldn't go back there. He would die. “Please, please don't let them take me. I'll do anything!”

Akaashi grabbed his wrists as he clutched at his shirt, pleading with him with all his power. He couldn't completely make out his expression in the darkness, but the hands on him were tight, almost painful.

“It's not my choice. You have to go. You'll have to make the best of it. Change things. If you're as stubborn as you have been here, you can.”

“No. No, you don't understand. They'll crush me. Not just me, everyone around me too. I'll become what I hate. Can't I just stay here? I-I'll join you. I'll help you. I'm useful and I-I won't push you anymore. Please.” He let go of Akaashi's shirt, his arms falling limp the carpeted floor of the tent. Cool fingers found his face, tilting it upward, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. He was lost for a moment as Akaashi touched him. He didn't know what to do, couldn't have expected such a reaction from the cold man. Warm breath whispered across his brow line and he gasped, shaken by the sudden shift in the man before him.

“Damn you. Damn you for making me wish I could offer you that. I was so sure I had kept you out and here...” his thumb moved down to Koutarou's bottom lip, moving over it softly. “Tomorrow they will come for you. And I have to let them take you. Don't ask me again.” His voice was hard, angry, but it didn't really matter.

Despair crept up from where his knees met the ground to wrap around his throat. There was no escape. Tomorrow his life would end and he would be a prisoner to unhappiness for the rest of it. He would never be free to be good, to help people, to love and laugh and feel all the things that defined the good parts of humanity. He would be a pawn, a puppet king to his father's machinations. An instrument by which people suffered and died in the name of greed. This would be his fate. 

“Then let me stay. Let me have one night with you. So that I can remember what it feels like touch someone I want. Please, let me stay.” The face over his hovered close. His hands moved up to Akaashi's hips and he felt him breathe out a shaky breath. He fell into the desire, desperate to lose himself in anything but the grief that threatened to drown him. 

But the hands left his face and the bandit leader stepped away. 

“No. I told you, I take no lovers. Not even for one night. Get out of my tent, Bokuto-san.” The hollow emptiness in this rejection punctured him and hot tears finally burst from his eyes. He leaned forward, arms across his stomach, the misery tearing him apart.

“My name is Koutarou. You can at least call me by my fucking name.” The words tore from him, harsh and angry, rage the only thing he could feel that was pure and clean anymore.

“I don't care about your name.” Akaashi's words were harsh too, cutting, losing all of the placid smoothness he usually spoke with. “I don't care about it or you. When they take you tomorrow, I intend to never think about you again. You will be nothing to me but the next Lord Bokuto, tyrant of Fukurodani, enemy of the people. You will have been a stain upon my ethics, an example of my failure to myself and to my people. Your presence here has been a burden. Heavy like iron around my neck. Heavy as the weight of silver that flows in the Bokuto bloodline and chains the people enslaved by it. You're nothing. So don't tell me your name. I don't want to know it.”

He brushed by Koutarou's bent form and it was like a final deathblow. All the emptiness rushed up into him and a terrible sob wracked his entire frame. He'd been so close, so close to something good and beautiful that he could taste it and now the world had fallen away from his feet. He crawled across the tent floor to a small table and rested his arms and head upon it, pulling at his hair. He was out of options. Perhaps, if he could just find his axes, he could try to fight his way out here. If they killed him, then at least...

He lifted his head, brushing his fingers along the paper that sat on the table, smudging where his tears had hit ink. Then he looked at it, following those lines, lines that traced through mountains and forests and cities...it was a map. There was an X located off the main road in the forest and he recognized it well enough from the map that the Great Horns had had to realize that it was the location of bandit camp. He looked behind him. He was alone in Akaashi's tent. A dagger pinned the map to the table. He pulled it free. 

Folding the map, he shoved it into his sporran and punctured the back of the tent with the knife. Cutting it open, he slipped out. No one was around. Looking at the stars to get his bearings, he took one last shaking breath before hurrying into the trees. He didn't look back. He just ran.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Couple things this for this chapter. Firstly here's Bokuto's song [The Wolf - PHILDEL](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CghQKrk0hWM). The lyrics have been tweaked to fit the setting. 
> 
> Also, there is some actual smut in this chapter! I have bolded around it, so if you'll be skipping it, stop at _“And if it's true. They lead me to you.”_ and resume at "His arms fell to his sides as he huffed heavy breaths into the cool, misty air."
> 
> Please enjoy Akaashi's meltdown. ^_^

Akaashi gripped his shirt, trying to breath into his burning lungs that seemed unable to expand. What was happening to him? He heard the terrible sob that wrenched from Bokuto and raked across him like a scourge. It drove his feet forward, farther away from the terrible affliction that had rushed upon him.

How was this happening? He was coming apart at the seams. Was this what happened when you relinquished control for even an instant? Everything just roars out through every crack in your skin and sets you ablaze?

He hadn't realized how thin the threads were getting as he had tested their limits with Bokuto. He'd thought that as long as he could control his actions that he was safe. He'd been nearly asleep when the song had woken him and he'd made his way quietly through the trees, his boots not even laced. He'd felt drawn toward the warrior, like the moon pulls the tide. But it wasn't magic, he knew that immediately. The words of Bokuto's song had struck against him the moment he was close enough to hear them, their yearning like an echo in his heart. He'd been annoyed that he had come, wanting to flee from that stirring, but their prisoner was alone and he couldn't allow for that to continue. 

Bokuto had seemed small at first, cowed by his presence and for whatever reason, it had emboldened him to ask why he had rescued Akaashi and the mage. The more he had said the angrier it had made the bandit leader and he couldn't pinpoint why. Because why had they mattered to him? How could he have weighed the lives of his cruel captors over his own freedom? 

The truth screamed at him from within his heart. Because he is good. He is a good, honorable man. He is better than I am. He is better than anyone I have ever known. 

The more he had tried to shove it down, the louder it had cried out. And nothing had cut through that screaming until his words about control had shattered the indomitable wall that Akaashi had spent years building. His simple words, so clear and logical had rattled the very foundation of his whole being.

_You're just watching the time slip by, trying to hold the world together like it will shatter if you don't. But it does keep going, even if you let go._

It would keep going. He didn't have to keep forcing everything in place. It was a simple and beautiful truth and it absolutely tore him asunder. What was left of him if he stopped? Something, certainly, but would he even recognize it? His mind had been reeling so much that he hadn't been prepared for the beautiful words, the dragon's wings, spoken against his lips, amber eyes drinking him in. He had so lost the iron will to keep his own desires at bay, that when Bokuto had kissed him, his mouth so warm and strong against Akaashi's, that he had made a foolish choice. He had let go. 

No one had kissed him like that in too many years to count. It had been before the lifetime that was his training to become a Talon, all pain and misery and hardness. He had not let himself indulge in the touch of another since he was young and naive. It was too much of a risk. But in that moment, the choice made, he had let himself collapse into Bokuto's hunger, his delving tongue and trailing hands, let himself taste the lush pleasure of passion right from its source and it had been...paradise. His own desires had raged against him and when Bokuto had pulled him closer, fear had clutched at him.

If he lost himself within this man, would there be anything left of Akaashi on the other side? He was so comfortable in his bindings that as the last of them threatened to snap, he had pulled back. It had not been reluctance or anger or revulsion that had made him push the incredible man away. It had been fear. 

_No, I take no lovers. It's not..._ He'd almost said the most foolish thing. _Personal_. How could it not be personal? This man was his enemy! He had considered killing him because of who he was. It should be personal. He shouldn't have to rely on fear to rescue him from falling into bed with the son of the tyrant who had facilitated the death of his parents and the inevitable destruction of his own life.

He'd found himself back in his tent with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. Every fiber of his being still felt wrapped in that kiss, locked in that moment where he had felt wanted, where he had wanted. 

_You're obviously not happy. You're not doing any of the things you want to do._

He was right. Akaashi's happiness had never been a priority, never even given a thought. His life had been duty, responsibility, survival. Keep his men alive, collect from suitable targets, do his job. But from the moment he'd seen the name Bokuto written on the first message from Nishinoya, he'd been flooded with wants of one kind or another, all of which had ruthlessly beaten against him from the inside. 

In this very moment, he stood with fists clenched and feet planted, being pulled toward the noble with every thread of desire which wove the tapestry of his instinct. He had asked him to take him back here. He could walk back out right now and retrieve him, lead him within this cloth fortress and slake the frantic lust that clawed at him so forcefully. It would take nothing. It was what he _wanted_ and he could have it for a single moment and maybe it would revive that part of him he had killed and buried years ago in order to be the best. He took a step toward the door.

_Freedom is found only in discipline, Keiji._

The words of his cruel mentor cut through the haze, halting his movements. Yes that had always been the lesson. With absolute discipline, there was freedom from any consequences, freedom to move within the world unhindered by want. But what had this hoarded freedom garnered him? Many things to the outside observer, but inside he felt...hollow. Pain and misery had been his teachers and he had pressed them into his bones so that their lessons might never be forgotten, but why? His work as a Talon had required hollowness, but now he could breathe again, be a whole man with a purpose and desires of his own. He could already strive for things for others, had been doing that for some time now, but he could also work toward his own needs. More than just survival. Happiness. Contentment.

He took another step and another, his skin flushing hot with the promise of where they would lead him, but just as he reached the opening, there was a ruffling sound from behind him. He turned toward it and saw it there, the raven, perched on the receiving post. When he lit the lantern blue and opened the scroll, dread clamped in around him.

_The son of House Bokuto has been paid for. They will come mid morning to retrieve him. Thank you, Akaashi. Your work has saved many lives._ He felt it begin to take hold, a terrible tremor of doubt, loss, injustice and he slammed down the iron jaws of his defenses around it. 

Yes, that was why. Because want led to pain. If you never wanted, then you never had anything worth losing. 

His tent flap had opened and Bokuto stepped in as if he had been summoned. Anger flared bright. How dare he disregard his orders. How dare he come here when the wound was so fresh. 

He'd gone to his knees to beg Akaashi not to send him. On his knees in supplication, his beauty still bright even in the oppressive darkness, and Akaashi had cupped his face without thinking, his lips falling to the warrior's brow. Everything in his heart was responding, crying out for him to save this man, but how many lives would be lost if he did? Yes, the ransom was paid, but he had little doubt his camp would be wiped out if they didn't turn over the noble. House Bokuto was powerful enough to ruin the bandits if they put their money into that goal. He could not let his newly beating heart make this choice. 

_Then let me stay. Let me have one night with you. So that I can remember what it feels like touch someone I want._

He could just give in. He wanted to. But he knew, in his heart of hearts, that to do so would cripple him. To open himself to this pure-hearted man and then lead him to the slaughter... It was unbearable. No. Better that he destroy that flicker of hope, that growing yearning that was dragging him under. He'd summoned all the weight of his hatred for House Bokuto, the thing that had robbed him of his family, his future, everything, and he channeled it into his words. They fell vicious and tearing upon the innocent noble and it felt like acid in his veins. 

He'd fled from his own space. The cries of the man within were still chasing him as he found the fire, the men around it fallen asleep. Tanaka was in their midst. Akaashi let out a shaky sigh. 

He tried to wake him, to no avail. The men were drunk, and how could he blame them? Between two victories and the death of their comrades, he could never deny them this indulgence. Scouts were in their places, the camp was safe. He was their leader, the constant, the anchor that held them firmly in place. He would swallow this terrible flood of sentiment and he would retrieve Bokuto himself. He slipped Tanaka's belt from him, including his hunting knife. Best to be prepared in case the man put up a fight. Akaashi was best with weapons in both hands. 

He took a steadying breath before the opening to the tent, willing away the wailing of his heart. At least the warrior had fallen silent. Those rending sobs were too much. Bokuto would be filled with anger and rage after the harsh words he'd left him with. Which was good. It meant that any further temptation was choked off. He stepped into the dark interior. 

“Bokuto-san, you will come with me back to your tent.” He made the words harsh and commanding, with no room for negotiation. He squinted into the darkness, but there was no movement. He pressed his thumb to the lantern, letting the little light flare to life. 

The tent was empty. He scanned it again. No, there was no way a man as large as Bokuto could be hiding. Movement in the fabric at the back of the tent caught his eye. Icy dread washed through him as the cut at the back billowed for a moment, letting a wind rush through that made the lantern flame flicker. 

He didn't let another moment pass in inaction. Lacing up his boots quickly, he held the belt in his teeth and flipped out both knives, slipping out the cut a the back. He should grab more men, but time was of the essence. How long had he left him in there alone? How much of a head start did he have? If the bandits lost him and were unable to deliver him... the consequences were too dire to fully weigh at the moment. House Bokuto would destroy them and he could not let that happen. Like a shadow, he slipped into the trees.

It was dark, clouds moving in overhead were just blocking the waning moonlight and winking out the stars one by one, but the warrior had left a clear path to eyes that knew how to look. Snapped branches, boot prints in the dirt, a parting of ferns and grasses, Akaashi could almost feel him. A soft rain began and the rogue cursed his luck. If he didn't find him before the rain began to fall in earnest, then he was unlikely to be able to track him until the storm let up. 

He had an advantage in his smaller frame and more dexterous grace. The berserker was strong but bulky and he didn't navigate the woods well, based on his uneven tracks. He was a great fighter, but surviving in the wilderness was clearly not a skill he had learned. Still, he was traveling in the right direction, which made Akaashi move with all haste.

He stopped just long enough to slip the extra belt around his waist, leaving it only loosely clasped as he would no doubt have to use it to bring Bokuto back. He just prayed that he caught up with him in earshot of his scouts. As the rain began to fall harder, doubt was creeping in. Even if he was able to subdue the man, he wasn't sure he would have the strength to bring him back on his own, conscious or not. 

He didn't know how much time had passed when his racing heart finally stuttered at the sight of his quarry before him. Bokuto leaned against a tree, catching his breath as the rain pelted him. At least he didn't have his axes, just a knife, the same size as Akaashi's. The rogue moved through the trees, silent and invisible with the rain to drown out any of his movements. He got ahead of Bokuto and scaled a tree in quick and practiced movements. And he waited.

His skin was cold but he didn't feel it as adrenaline rushed through him in anticipation of the fight and capture. Only a few moments passed before the warrior came into view, hurried steps clumsy as he looked behind him for a pursuer. Placing one dagger in his teeth, Akaashi swung down, using the height as momentum, and collided with Bokuto's front, sending them both sprawling backward into the mud. He'd locked his thighs tight against the warrior's torso and landed perfectly atop him. Bokuto's eyes went wide as he tried to grab at his assailant, the knife slashing out, but Akaashi parried it easily, sending it spinning into the darkness. Both of his blades came down to cross over Bokuto's throat, effectively pinning him to the ground. His bare chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as the rain pelted down on him. 

“Gods damnit! Just let me go! Or finish it here!” he cried out, hands fisting at his sides and his face creased in anger. It had been too easy, but the rain made it so that his bird call might go unheard by his men. He frowned down at the noble, hating the way his traitorous eyes swept across his body. He was seated far enough back that even the trail of silvery hair that led down from his naval was visible and Akaashi had to clamp tight on his own stirrings as he forced his eyes back to Bokuto's face. 

“I can't. You're coming back with me.” He gave the blades pressed against Bokuto's neck a bit of added pressure to drive home his order. But the noble's eyes shifted, his jaw setting and a simmering fire of rebellion burning within their amber depths.

“How are you going to manage that? You're all alone, aren't you? They won't hear you over the rain.” His voice was low and calm and it fired warning shots within the rogue. He was going to be unruly, as Akaashi had expected. His thighs tightened around Bokuto's hips and he pushed the knives high, right under his jawline. This had the affect of making the berserker arch his back and something feral within Akaashi brought many images to bear that he was trying his best to avoid. 

“I'll manage. You're in no position to-” his words stalled as he felt hands grip his knees. When he looked up from them to threaten his prey further, the look on Bokuto's face stalled him, serene but his pupils were blown wide as the rain softened the ground around them. 

_“And you once said I wish you dead, you sinner. I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner.”_ His voice was clear through the rain and Akaashi felt it move across his skin with velvet magnetism. He needed to fight it but it was so warm and inviting, the man before him so very beautiful, splayed across the rain-wet earth. The magic tingled in his blood.

_“And if I see you round like a ghost in the town, you liar.”_ The hands at his knees shifted upward, strong fingers dragging over the soaked fabric, so warm compared to the cold of the rain. 

_“I'll leave with your head, oh I'll leave you for dead, sire.”_ He knew the knives at Bokuto's throat had lessened their pressure but the hands wandering up his thighs had all of his attention. His white shirt clung to him, but it didn't stop Bokuto's fingers from delving beneath the hem, his thumbs brushing at the top of Akaashi's hip bones and making him shiver. 

_“You were sharp as a knife to get me...”_ One of his hands didn't stop there, slipping fully beneath the soaked fabric and his touch was like fire against Akaashi's chilled skin. He slid it slowly up his ribs and Akaashi sucked in a ragged breath from the feel of rough callouses against him. He barely remembered the last time someone had touched him like this and as Bokuto's thumb pressed across his nipple, already sensitive from the cold, his hands shook on the daggers.

_“You were a wolf in the night to fetch me, back...”_ Bokuto's other hand left his hip, coming to rest on his bicep and trailing slowly down to his wrist to grip it lightly.

_“The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell...”_ He was drawing the blade away from his throat, and Akaashi couldn't find the will to stop him, so lost in the patterns those fingers were weaving across his chest and side, leaving trails of sparks in their wake. 

_“Everyone knows that my past is too wicked to fell...”_ Bokuto slid his thumb into Akaashi's palm, making the knife fall to the ground and he then pressed the rogue's cold fingers against his chest. His skin was warm and wet, alive with it's own magic and Akaashi was falling into it. His other hand fell away from Bokuto's neck as well, slipping to the ground so that he could lean forward, pushing further into that searing touch. 

_“And if that's true, it's led me to you.”_ Akaashi knew the words he was singing were biting, that they were meant to wound, but desire was so sharp and bright within him that he didn't have room to feel anything else. Bokuto leaned up, to ghost the breath of his words along Akaashi's neck, his hand migrating to the small of his back in a slow movement which no doubt relished every part of him it touched. 

_“And you once said I wish you dead, you sinner. I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner.”_ In a flash, Bokuto's grip on his waist tightened and he pushed him, rolling them over and pressing Akaashi to the muddy ground. He scrabbled for a moment, trying to remember what he was doing, searching for his knife, but then Bokuto's voice was low in his ear, his hand petting down his chest and he lost himself again.

_“And if I see you round like a ghost in the town, you liar. I'll leave with your head, oh I'll leave you for dead, sire.”_ Bokuto rolled his hips against Akaashi, still between his legs and a small 'ah' escaped the bandit leader's parted lips. As a hand moved lazily from his knee all the way to the joint of his hip, his own hands found broad shoulders and the warrior's nape, digging into them as he let sensation take the place of rationale. 

_“I know my way through the night to your door...”_ Bokuto pushed the white shirt up, revealing Akaashi to cool rain that had slowed to a trickle, but still raised goosebumps across him. He gasped as warm breath fell against his sternum another roll of hips pressed against his growing arousal caught between them. 

_“You know the blood that I'm owed is all yours...”_ Bokuto's thumb traced the line of his abdomen down to his naval and his mouth followed it, leaving that trail of hot breath that made Akaashi's body flex into him, just as the pressure against him eased back. Gods, he wanted that mouth against his skin so badly that his body ached for it, but instead, Bokuto began to unhook his belt, the one that bound his pants, and he felt himself throb with want. 

_“The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell...”_ Pulling the leather free, he tugged at the drawstring, loosening them entirely and pulling them down over his hips, which his wicked breaths played along just as deliciously.

_“My devils already they know me so well...”_ He was just barely not exposed, panting into the cold air, and Bokuto ran one hand over the cloth which his erection strained against. He moaned and jolted into the touch, so desperate for the sensation, he had forgotten himself entirely.

_**“And if it's true. They lead me to you.”**_ As he looked down he watched Bokuto free him entirely from the cloying fabric, and with one last heavy gaze, he pressed his tongue against Akaashi's cock, dragging it from base to tip. Akaashi couldn't stop the wanton groan that was torn from his lungs, all the more so when Bokuto sank his lips over him, enveloping him in sinful heat. Akaashi's head fell back as he was lost in pleasure, Bokuto's tongue flicking and circling in all the most decadent ways against him. Back arching and hips flexing, any shred of the tight bonds of control snapped entirely. One arm fell over his eyes, the shadow of the shame he should feel whispering at the edges of his mind, but his other hand laced into the berserker's hair.

As Bokuto took him in, exceptionally deep, a hum vibrated along his sensitive skin and Akaashi's nails dug into his scalp. Gods, he felt so good, clearly knew what he was doing, and as Akaashi moved to push further into him, strong hands held his hips to the ground. He sped up the pace and Akaashi realized that he was beginning to build, his breaths so frantic against his arm as he tried to suppress the ragged moans that were being pulled out of him. He didn't want him to stop, but he wanted more, to feel him press inside of him and slam into Akaashi in unbridled need. 

At the very thought of that fantasy, of the warrior so lost to pleasure that he fell to raw instinct, rutting into Akaashi like an animal, he felt the sweet rush of climax drag him under. Bokuto didn't shy from it, his hands running along Akaashi's body as he drank him down, his artful tongue easing him through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

**His arms fell to his sides as he huffed heavy breaths into the cool, misty air.** He hadn't opened his eyes again yet, still spinning through the wracking wakes of ecstasy as burning kisses and rough fingertips moved up his torso. As Bokuto's chest moved against his, the skin to skin contact was enough to make his eyes flutter open, the sensation exquisite to his touch starved flesh. Bokuto's mouth moved over his collarbone and throat, open mouthed kisses seeming to devour him. Akaashi's hands sought his face, pulling him up to meet his lips. He could taste himself on the noble's tongue and it only stoked his fires further as the warrior thrust against him again, a low moan filling his mouth. Bokuto cupped his cheek, his hand moving down to caress his throat.

He was unprepared when the fingers tightened, like they had in the grotto just that morning. He gasped as Bokuto broke their kiss and stared down at him with eyes that held both longing and bitterness. He grabbed at the noble's wrist and struggled. 

“You have one last choice, Akaashi. You can choose to let me go or I can incapacitate you again.” Akaashi's nails dug into his wrist, but this time he was prepared. He was not as helpless as Bokuto believed him to be. He had recovered from the magic, still not nearly as strong as it had been by the river, and his mind was clear.

“Why? Why do...this?” If his plan had always been to knock him out, he could have overpowered him easily at almost any point in their foray. He had no reason to bring the bandit leader to completion, to kiss him so passionately afterward. His brow creased, but those amber eyes softened.

“I won't let you forget me. The real me. Koutarou. You'll remember how I taste and how I feel forever. I'll be burned into your skin.” His lips brushed against Akaashi's again and the bandit's free hand tangled in his black and silver hair, as not even the tight grip at his throat dimmed effect they had on him. 

“I'm so sorry, Koutarou.” It was not a boast. He hated that he had to do this, wanted nothing more than to let him run free. Bokuto's face clenched in sorrow and frustration and he felt the fingers around his neck tighten. 

Akaashi tapped the heel of his right boot against the ground in two places, allowing the small mechanism located in the sole to spring the tiny blade free. After the events of the morning, he had re-coated it with the sleep poison, which was fortuitous. It would be at maximum concentration and he hoped it would take effect before he lost consciousness. He sunk it into Bokuto's calf, making the warrior hiss and look down. His grip tightened painfully as panic overtook his features, but Akaashi didn't struggle against him. He just looked at him, refusing to guard the remorse he felt from reaching his face.

In moments the hand at his throat lost its strength and Bokuto's features slackened as he slumped onto Akaashi. He was so heavy against his chest, heavier than even a man his size should be. With a bitter exhale, Akaashi knew that weight was as much his own guilt as anything else. He pushed him off and resettled his clothes. Standing, he made the owl call several times into the night, the rain having almost stilled. They would be here soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know I kicked this one out fast, but I've been waiting to write it for so long. 
> 
> There's a decent amount of smut in this one, so if you'll be skipping that, I've bolded the lines to start and stop at. Stopping line is “I think I like you like this, actually,” and you can resume at 'They took a moment to simply'
> 
> Thanks for reading, please enjoy!

Koutarou came to slowly, his mind trying to chase away the heavy fog that was holding him under. His body ached and his muscles were slow and weak. There was something in his mouth, fabric, rough against his tongue and he blinked furiously to clear his eyes. It was hard to lift his head. 

As the room swam into focus, despair clutched at him. He was back in that gods-forsaken tent. His arms were bound back above his head against that fucking pole. Whatever Akaashi had drugged him with was still heavy in his veins and he let the rage rage boil through him to burn it off. His muscles bulged against the leather straps that held his wrists and he could feel them cut into his wrists. His teeth clenched against the gag in his mouth and he dug his heels against the floor. 

“Oh, you, you're awake...” At the sound of Tanaka's voice, he pushed the rage back and angled his face toward the wide-eyed bandit, sitting cross-legged with his spear resting over his knees. He liked Tanaka, a lot. But right now, all he could see was a guy who had chosen willful ignorance in order to build a thin veil of friendship with him to ease the tension of Koutarou's imprisonment. It was a lie. This man didn't care about him, had no intention of caring about him. He was an enemy. Anger overtook any of the positive inclinations as he felt the pressure of his impending hand off. He leveled a dark look toward the man.

Tanaka blanched as Koutarou scowled at him. He broke eye contact first, staring at the ground briefly before rising and walking to the tent flap, his shoulders hunched.

“I'll go get Akaashi.” He left with a single backward glance, hurt etched on his features. Koutarou strained at his bonds, trying desperately to loosen them while he was alone. It was useless effort. The leather straps held his wrists apart on either side of the pillar, and pulling at them only seemed to tighten the binding further. The position kept his back and shoulders flush to the wooden pole, making it impossible for him to get his feet under him to even stand without dislocating the joints.

When Akaashi came through the opening, he was turned toward Tanaka, but Koutarou noticed that he hadn't donned his black leather armor. He wore similar clothes to before, but was barefoot and the clothes were dry. His black hair curled around his face more than usual, likely due to the rain.

“No one comes in unless we're under attack.”

“Yes, senpai. Please, please don't hurt him.” Tanaka's plea threatened to break through Koutarou's firm anger, but he held strong. Akaashi crossed to the lantern, doing whatever made the sound fall away like he had earlier. What could he even want with him now? If his mind was so fully made up on Koutarou's fate, then why waste any more time on discussion? 

He tensed as Akaashi approached him wordlessly, bending down over him and pulling the gag from his mouth with cool fingers. He hadn't yet met his eyes. Koutarou tried to focus on his anger but his face flushed at Akaashi's beauty, the sharp memory of their moment of passion rising to the forefront. 

He could have escaped. If he had just taken advantage of his adversary instead of indulging his own desire. He'd meant to, planned to incapacitate him the moment he fell pliant beneath him from the magic of the song, but his hands seemed to continue their exploration of their own accord. He'd been so drunk on seeing Akaashi shaken loose, wanted to see him come undone entirely so badly that it was all he could focus on. His skin had tasted like the rain, his mouth like an oasis to the desert of Koutarou's yearning. Even now, with so much fury and misery boiling inside of him, he felt a softness for the man. He punched it down within his chest. 

“I thought you were better than this. Better than simply selling someone to your enemy.” His words fell harshly and Akaashi looked up at him, his face unreadable. 

“You don't know anything about me.”

“I know that you're a bandit through and through. The bandits always put money over lives. Whatever will get your king more treasure to sit upon. What's it to you? One useless life. You're no different from how the bandits always were.”

Akaashi clenched his teeth, his eyes flashing in indignation. He clenched his fists before him as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“You fool. You think I don't hate this? This is exactly the kind of thing we have all been fighting to eradicate. We stopped the slave trade. We put an end to robberies of poor travelers and refugees. We put leaders in charge who would not tolerate kidnapping, rape, and murder for sport. My king, with the help of a select few like Tanaka and myself, have changed the landscape of what the bandits are and what we do. And that has cost us dearly. That money that you think our king sits upon, it goes to food and supplies for the many, many bandit groups across the nation. It gets funneled to downtrodden communities in cities like Fukurodani, so people don't have to risk their lives in the silver mines or starve in the streets. It equalizes and protects the less fortunate.”

Koutarou turned his head away, not wanting to hear anymore. It was easier just to hate them. To believe that they did all of this out of greed and malice. But strong fingers grabbed his chin, pulling his face back to Akaashi, who's mask of serenity had slipped fully and there was true anguish as he looked upon Bokuto. 

“So yes, I am trading your life. As much as it pains me and as much as I hate that you are not the spoiled, cruel son of a tyrant that I had thought you were, I have chosen to do so because it is your life in exchange for hundreds of others. That money is the life blood of my people and countless others who have nothing.” 

And for the first time, he saw him. The Akaashi that all those men held in such high regard, who they followed without question. He saw a man fighting an impossible battle and winning and hating himself for every misstep along the way. And he saw the nobility there and it moved his heart in a way he had been completely unprepared for. 

Akaashi stood, taking out one of the long knives they had fought with earlier. He stepped over Koutarou, sinking down to straddle his lap and making him gasp in both surprise and temptation. One of his hands splayed over Koutarou's chest and the other sat high on the pole, with the knife pressed against the leather strap that bound his hands. His radiant captor was so close, yet again, and he wanted to touch him so badly that he ached.

“But I hear your words and they cut me to the core. This is not who I am. Especially not now that I know more of you. So I'll let you make the choice. You can stay, knowing that in exchange for going back to your miserable family, that hundreds will be safe and fed and cared for. Or, say the word and I will cut you free, Lord Bokuto.” 

Those midnight blue eyes dared him, dared him to prove the bandit leader had been right about him in the beginning. He wanted him to be selfish, to prove that he wasn't the man he claimed to be. And Koutarou knew in that moment that the war was lost. He couldn't even trade the life of his enemy for his freedom. How could he trade the lives of hundreds of innocents for it? He slumped back against the pole, his eyes sliding closed.

“No. No, I'll go. I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Akaashi shifted on him and he heard the knife drop to the floor. Cool fingers caressed his jaw and warm lips pressed against his. The kiss chased away the terrible shadows that had sunk their fangs into him, and he let himself get lost in Akaashi for a moment as their tongues teased at one another. When he pulled away, the bandit's face was soft and tinged with red. 

“I will acquiesce to your other request, if it's still what you want,” the rogue said, low and breathy against his skin and his breath hitched as arousal bloomed within him. Akaashi shifted his hips forward, making Koutarou groan from the friction. He wanted him, needed him, like a last breath before a deep dive into raging waters. 

“Yes. Yes please. Take me back to your tent.” He pulled at the bindings, feeling them bite into his wrists and Akaashi stood, lifting his shirt and undoing his belt.

“It has to be here. It's nearly morning and we haven't the time.” Belt undone, he pulled at the ties and let his pants fall to the floor. His shirt was long enough that it didn't reveal him, but his long, pale legs were beautiful in the low lantern light, as graceful as everything else about him. Was this truly happening? He didn't know if he could believe it was real. 

“Th-then please, release my hands, at least!” he begged, wriggling against the pole. Akaashi knelt between his legs, his hands gliding up the leg wrappings he had re-donned earlier in the evening, until he met exposed thigh. His cool fingers against the sensitive flesh made Koutarou shiver. He pushed the hem of the kilt up until it was bunched against Koutarou's stomach, kissing along Koutarou's jaw and dragging his teeth against him which made little cries escape his throat. He tugged at Koutarou's undergarments, shifting them down his thighs and freeing his already hard member. 

**“I think I like you like this, actually,”** he whispered against his ear, the words having that cruel playfullness that Koutarou had only seen flickers of previously. It poured through him like molten honey, all the more sensuous as he felt his cock slide against the cleft of Akaashi's ass as he crawled back into his lap. As the rogue leaned back, Koutarou saw that he'd produced a small vial that he was pouring a gold and viscous liquid from. Reaching behind him, he took Koutarou in hand and gave him a slow stroke, slicking him with it. He rubbed against him again, closing his eyes and huffing out a breath. 

“W-wait you need to-” Akaashi's other hand fell over his mouth.

“Hush now. I'm no blushing maiden. I took care of that before I came in here.” He slid back against him again, making the berserker moan into his hand. Akaashi's face dipped to his neck and he felt his tongue trail lazily up to his jawline. Fuck, he'd been wanting this too, Koutarou knew it. He flexed his hips, falling into the friction that was already there. 

“Will you be good for me now, Koutarou? So that I can reward you?” Ah, his sinful whisper was sending lightning under the warrior's skin and a keening noise escaped him as he nodded. The hand slipped from his mouth. “Say 'yes, sir.'” The command was dark and luscious and he would have done and said anything in that moment to please the alluring rogue. 

“Yes sir,” he gasped, and it felt like Akaashi purred with satisfaction. Koutarou's whole body tensed as Akaashi angled him against his entrance and began to sink slowly down over him. His tight heat was almost too much, but as he leaned back it gave Koutarou full view of him. The thin white shirt opened low on his neck line, revealing his collar bones and the outline of his fine musculature. His thighs were dusted red and the shirt did little to hide the tent of his own erection between them. His delicate features were clenched as he adjusted to Bokuto's girth, but there was such pleasure there as well. It was like a dream, feeling him and seeing him so shaken and wanting. 

As he took him in to the hilt, Koutarou had to hold his breath, afraid he might come immediately if the incredible rogue started moving too soon. He breathed out slow, taking a few steadying breaths, but the need to thrust into him was so powerful that his hips were already starting to rock back and forth. Akaashi's began an achingly slow roll, his eyes heavy with lust. One of his hands lifted the hem of his shirt in such deliberate leisure, revealing himself inch by inch until his own red and wanting shaft was freed, pushing the fabric up farther so that Koutarou could see more of him as his body undulated. He wanted him to see. He put the shirt between his teeth and let his hand glide down to run over his own cock. Koutarou felt him clench just a bit from the shock of pleasure and he moaned at the shattering image through clenched teeth. 

The pace was too slow and it was driving him crazy. He needed to feel him slamming down, feel their skin slap together, but he had no control over his partner's movements. Still, he felt so good, nothing like the hurried excursions he had partaken in in the past. They had been pleasurable, of course, but in a fumbling kind of way, rich with laughter and innocence. This was entirely different. Akaashi watched him, his expression serious, and it made him feel more like prey that was finally caught by the hunter. And there was nothing he'd wanted more than to be caught.

“Ah, please, faster...” he whined, trying desperately to get enough leverage to push into Akaashi further. The rogue's movements stopped as his eyebrow's quirked up, the shirt hem falling from his mouth. He leaned forward, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. 

“Is that a complaint? Good boys don't complain. Perhaps you have had enough?” His words were low and succulent, just the kind of teasing that drove Koutarou wild. Gods, he'd stopped moving and he felt like he was going shake apart. 

“N-no, please no, don't stop. Please. Ah, Akaashi!” He knew he sounded desperate but he didn't care, he _was_ desperate. 

“Please, sir,” the bandit leader corrected, his short nails running lightly along Koutarou's sides as he writhed in sweet agony. 

“Please, sir! Please, don't stop!” At his plea, he saw Akaashi bite his lip and relief flooded through him as his partner began to move again. Despite his reaction, he did move faster and Koutarou felt tears gather at his eyes from the sheer intensity of it. He couldn't stop the cries that shook from him, though at times he held his breath just to listen to the little sounds that Akaashi made as he rode out his own desire on the berserker. 

He felt the coil tightening within him much too quickly, but the feeling of this man and watching him devolve into breathless moans as he stroked himself was too much. He'd wanted him so badly all this time and the feel of him pounding down onto him with such abandon was making him lose his mind with ecstasy. 

“Akaashi, ah gods, I'm going to...” Just as he felt himself tip over the precipice, waves of pleasure lashing through him from the heart-stopping climax, he felt Akaashi's body tighten, his face clenching in the same bliss. He released onto Koutarou's chest, hot and sticky, dripping down to waistband. It was filthy and delicious and their mouths crashed together with no pretense, simply needing to taste each other in this pure moment of euphoria. 

**They took a moment to simply pant against each other,** Akaashi's hands soothing his sides, chest, and thighs. He grabbed a cloth from the nearby stack of supplies and gently cleaned Koutarou's chest, easing off of him as he began to soften. He stepped behind him for a moment, out of sight, but Koutarou was too dazed in the afterglow to pay much heed. When he came back around, he slipped his pants on and bent to slide Koutarou's undergarments back up into place. 

He didn't know what to say. He knew he wanted to say a lot of things, maybe even should say a few of them, but the silence was so full between them that he couldn't bring himself to break it. Akaashi gave him a rare and unguarded expression, sympathy painting him in a new light. 

“Soon, Tanaka will come for you to take you to the river once more before they come. I'll send one of your companions with you. I-” he broke off as his eyes met Koutarou's, and he brushed his fingers along the warrior's cheek, delicately. “Don't let them break you.”

His throat burned and his eyes prickled. He wanted so badly to tell him that he wouldn't, that he would remain strong, that he would change things. But it would have been a lie. His father had broken him long ago. So instead, he smiled sadly and nodded.

“I'll try.” He watched Akaashi's brow furrow momentarily. Koutarou was a terrible liar and he was sure the hopelessness had been apparent on his face. Akaashi leaned in, giving him a last swift kiss before turning away and walking out without looking back. The noise of the surrounding camp filled his ears, chasing away that heavy-laden silence.

Koutarou hung his head, finally letting hot tears spill down his face. He would hold this memory tight, like a lantern in endless night, but he still had to watch the sun set on his life for the last time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter contains domestic violence and threat of sexual violence. 
> 
> I know we've had a fair amount of battle violence so far, but I find this tends to impact people differently, so I wanted to include the content warning just so that you're prepared.

Akaashi ran a hand through his still-wet hair as he watched Tanaka and several of the men lead Bokuto and one of the other warriors off the the river. His body ached pleasantly from the morning he had spent with the berserker, and while the river had washed away the signs, his changing resolve remained firmly impressed. It had only been a couple hours, but the change in Bokuto's demeanor was obvious as well as he made his way across the camp, shoulders down and eyes to the ground. 

Tanaka passed his senpai a look of profound disappointment and fury. There was no doubt in Akaashi's mind that he would offer to let them escape once they reached the river. He had seen this coming, watched it building within his second in command. The edge of his mouth ticked up when Tanaka looked away. He was proud of him. Choosing the right path when the person you rely on and report to is choosing the wrong one was well beyond honorable and it reminded Akaashi that this was a man who had helped Nishinoya change the bandits for the better. He could ask for no one better at his side.

What Tanaka didn't know was that Akaashi had made a decision. They would hand over Bokuto, but he wouldn't be in their custody for long. It was at least a week's travel to Fukurodani and many things could happen on the road. One of those things was a vicious attack that would leave the retrieval party decimated and bewildered. He had a plan and with Terushima's aid, any of the soldiers who returned would carry with them a story of a monster attack that sadly left the young noble missing and presumed dead. They would get him back. And as long as there was no implication that the bandits were involved, House Bokuto would have no reason to retaliate. 

He sat down at a campfire next to the sorcerer, the first person with whom he needed to discuss the plan with. The crackle of flames would cover their hushed whispers, and Akaashi leaned close to tell him, but Terushima gave him a wide-eyed and somewhat panicked expression. It was unusual on the smooth mage's features, so often collected even when he should be rattled. He'd been so off his game as of late. Akaashi narrowed his eyes. 

“Is there something you need to tell me, Terushima-san?” The mage kept his eyes locked on the fire. 

“Nope.” He shifted, uncomfortable under the bandit leader's steady gaze. Whatever was going on with him would have to wait. 

“There's something I need to discuss with you.” His voice dropped low so only the sorcerer would hear him, but the man's face flushed bright red and he nodded curtly, chewing at his bottom lip. Akaashi studied his face for a moment, trying to solve the puzzle of what could have him so flustered suddenly. He'd never acted this way before. 

Just before Akaashi could speak again though, a high, fast owl hoot cut through the trees. The scouts alerting them to an approaching threat. All the men knew the sound and every bandit stood, swords and daggers slipping from scabbards and arrows nocked into bowstrings. Akaashi distanced himself from Terushima, not wanting the two of them close in case of an area attack. He snapped both swords into his hands, stepping to the front of the group as the first warrior came into their clearing. 

She was tall and broad-shouldered, her armor heavy plate mail and two vicious looking maces held tight in her hands. Her expression was locked in a stony scowl of intimidation. Behind her, others began to emerge, many men with weapons at the ready including several archers. Even of just the ones he could see, they outnumbered the bandits at least two to one. 

“We're here for Koutarou. You've got your payment, now we expect you to hand him over.” Something felt off, but it was nothing he could piece together, just a feeling in his gut. A thin man approached the woman with a satchel at his side. He looked like a mage. 

“Of course. He's very unruly, just so you're aware. I suggest you keep him gagged.” She smirked in response to him. It made his skin itch.

“Oh that won't be necessary.” The lanky man next to her was digging around in his satchel and she elbowed him hard, making him spill a few things onto the ground. As he scooped up the items and placed them back in the bag, he kept a scroll in hand and waved it at her in triumph. “We'll be taking him straight back to the castle. Lord Bokuto is anxious for the return of his only son, so he spent a considerable amount on this mage and his little recall scroll.”

Akaashi's heart stopped for a moment, making pain lance through his chest. Time seemed to slow as the implication of this settled over him. A recall scroll. Once activated, it would take them immediately to the place the scroll was created, likely the Bokuto Castle. Once Koutarou was within those walls, the chances of getting him out again became slim to none. The entire plan he had crafted that morning to free man from his father's grip shattered around him. His hands gripped his swords to white knuckles, his limbs going cold. There was no time for reaction. Only forward momentum.

“Ah. How convenient. Yes, we received word last night that his ransom had been paid. Such a pity your first group of comrades chose to attack us rather than simply wait.” The words fell lightly from his lips, carrying just the hint of threat. In truth, he was stalling, his mind racing for a plan. He flicked through each beat of the prior plan, trying to find a through line. There had to be something.

He'd said to him _Don't let them break you_ and had expected the proud warrior to give him a sure grin and a foolish promise. But he'd watched Bokuto crumble beneath those words, and it had left a wound in him. He'd seen in that moment that Koutarou was already broken, more so than he had ever guessed. He knew the fate he had agreed to and was sacrificing himself for the faceless people who would benefit from his destruction. In that moment, every single nerve in Akaashi had screamed that he could not allow that to happen. That if he was half the man that he believed himself to be, he would not stand for this beautiful soul to be ripped asunder. 

He looked around at his men, standing warily at the ready. They could fight here, die, most likely, and allow Koutarou to escape. Maybe. There was still a chance he would go with them, willingly or not, and their sacrifice would be in vain. He saw their faces, their names spinning by him, the shape of their smiles and hopes and dreams. He had spent years with some of them, called them friend, and knew them for the good-hearted people they were. How could he so carelessly sacrifice them? 

He turned and saw Terushima staring at him, his fingers twitching in anticipation. Everyone shuffled uncomfortably. The woman hoisted her maces to her shoulders, giving him a dark look.

“Yes, you sure taught them a lesson. I wonder if Koutarou knew when he helped you fight them how simple it would be for you to turn him over once that money found its way to your coffers. You'd best fetch him now, or we'll start having concerns.” He watched her men tense in preparation, bowstrings drawn tight. If he could just bring her down, or the mage, perhaps they had a chance. But the distance between them was still too great. They couldn't take this many of them here, on even footing. His plan involved ambush, the cover of night and terrifying guises. They would have attacked them as illusory monsters, hidden Bokuto from sight, disguised him and...

It hit like a clap of thunder in Akaashi's mind. There was no time for fear, only action. 

“Terushima-san, please help me collect the young noble.” He marched with purpose past the mage, who hid his confusion well as they entered the tent that the other berserker had been held in. Kyoutani stood, completely free, with his warhammer hefted and ready. He eyed Akaashi with suspicion, his head cocking slightly as Terushima entered behind him. 

“What the fuck are we doing?” the mage whispered to him, fear heavy in the air about him. 

“You can still use polymorph, correct?” Akaashi asked him and his face crinkled in confusion.

“Well, yeah-”

“How many times?”

“Three at maximum, but that means losing some of my other more useful spells.” The additional information was superfluous, Akaashi's mind working overtime to stay one step ahead of the situation. He looked over at Kyoutani.

“You'll turn him into me. Then, me into Bokuto.” The two of them stared at him a moment until he stabbed both of his blades into the ground, leveling the mage with a furious look.

“Holy sh- you're serious. Akaashi...this is a bad idea. My spell only lasts an hour. Their going to find out you're not him before you have a chance to escape! If you even get a chance to escape! And I can't even cast it without a part of Bokuto to go off of. I can't-”

Akaashi slammed his boot heal against the middle pole holding up the tent, causing the mechanism to spring and the small blade to slide out. It was still coated in a thin layer of the berserker's dried blood. Kyoutani followed the line of his leg, the grimace he usually sported fallen lax. 

“Why are you doing this?” the warrior asked, his voice low and gravelly and Akaashi huffed out a breath.

“Does it matter? If it spares him from this fate, are my reasons important?” The blonde's eyes searched his face for the briefest moment.

“How long do you need the spell to last?”

“Kentarou, it doesn't matter how long he needs, it only-”

“How long?” the berserker interrupted the mage and Akaashi cocked his head at Terushima. Had he called the man by his first name? 

“If it could last a few days, that would be ideal.”

“That's not possible!”

“Yes it is. Yuuji, cast the spell. Do it on me first.” The mage stared at him in complete befuddlement. Akaashi slipped the small blade out of his boot as Kyoutani plucked a few dark hairs from his head with a jerk and held them out for Terushima, who took them with a huff.

“You two are awfully familiar...” the rogue muttered and he watched the mage blush deeply in response, his eyes locked on Kyoutani. Oh. Things clicked into place suddenly. When had this...not that he could particularly comment. Terushima whispered words of magic, touching Kyoutani's forehead and his body shifted, growing taller and leaner, his hair darkening and features softening. Within a handful of seconds, Akaashi was looking at a perfect copy of himself. It was an eerie sight, regardless of how many times he'd seen the mage do it. 

Terushima took the small blade from him as Kyoutani slipped a hand to the back of his neck. The mage gave the berserker a skeptical look. He nodded. His words whispered over Akaashi and the brush of his fingertips felt like fire. But his gaze was drawn to his double, the deep blue eyes glowing sun-bright golden for a moment. Terushima's eyes went wide and he gulped a breath of air, a slight wind whipping through his hair and robes for an instant before settling. 

The change didn't feel like much, a tingling of magic and then a bit of a stretch. Then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was bare-chested and his shoulders were broad and the pleated kilt brushed against his knees, bound in the black leg bindings of the Fukurodani warriors. He held out his hands and Kyoutani wrapped them tight in a leather binding. Terushima seemed dazed, out of breath and a bit pale. Whatever this man, Kyoutani, was, it was something extraordinary.

“Do you need any help, bandit lord? We are getting impatient.” The woman's harsh voice grated over them and Akaashi grimaced. Kyoutani leaned close.

“You have three days, assuming they don't knock you unconscious. Don't forget, Bokuto reacts strongly. No one will believe you're him if you act yourself.” He then took Akaashi by the elbow firmly and yanked him from the tent. He saw the faces of his men flash in confusion, but they said nothing. He looked over at the warrior and the mage and gave them his best furious scowl. She smirked at him.

“Koutarou, it's so good to see you again. Your father has been missing you. I hear your wedding was like a dream. Too bad you had to miss it.” She looked down at Kyoutani, lifting her chin. “I wish you would have fought us, so we could leave your rotting corpses for the the vultures.” 

“Take him and go,” Kyoutani said in Akaashi's voice. Yes, they needed to leave. If Tanaka came back with Bokuto in tow, that would destroy this plan entirely. The woman took his arm in an iron grip and shoved at the squirrely mage. He opened the scroll. Kyoutani took a step back. 

What was he doing? This was a foolish gamble. How was he going to-

The forest clearing melted in his vision, nausea overtaking him. He shut his eyes tightly so he didn't lose his balance, and when he opened them, everything around him had changed. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark area, lit only by torchlight, the smell of old stone and smoke heavy around him in the stagnant air. They stood before a large wooden door, a silver inlay of the Bokuto House sigil of the manticore flickering as it reflected the firelight. A guard stood to either side, one reaching over to pull at a rope which rung a bell high above.

The sound of the bell ripped through him, casting him back to a memory long since buried beneath his finely sharpened control. The bells of House Bokuto rang through the whole city, and they had that night, endlessly. The night of the collapse in the mine, fire pouring from the mouth of the thing like a dragon's maw. It was so real, so raw, that he almost felt the flames in that moment. The doors opened before him. A rough hand pushed him forward. 

He'd never seen the inside of the estate, no less the castle, and it's grandeur was rivaled only by it's darkness. Such a sharp contrast to Bokuto himself. Akaashi briefly wondered how such a shining star could ever grow within this foul place. 

He hadn't the time to think on it though, as he was ushered forward over lush carpets of gray and gold to the severe man seated upon an austere throne. Akaashi's eyes widened. He'd never been so close to the man before and deep seated fury burned within as he marveled at him.

Eito Bokuto, the man who had ruled over house Bokuto for the last 30 years sat before him. His features were stern, all power and authority, the shadow of Koutarou's radiant face. His eyes glowed the same amber, but they were cold and vicious, his black and silver hair slicked tightly back to his head. He was handsome for a man his age, but in that dangerous way that only kings and archmages managed. The weight of his gaze was like every piece of silver his mines had bled from the people.

His hand wrapped tight around the head of a silver walking stick and he stood. Movement behind him caught Akaashi's eye and he tried to steady himself as the manticore came into view. The bandit leader had seen many beasts in his years on the road, but nothing quite like the manticore, not this close. He'd seen its shape from a distance as a boy, but trapped within this room, each of its alien features clear as it stalked behind its master, it was impossible to keep fear from flowing through him in chilling waves. The lion's body was far larger than a regular lion, closer to the size of a horse, the scorpion tail held suspended over its back. Legend described it having the face of a man, but no man had ever looked like this. Heavy mane covered it like a beard and long locks, the skin of the face leathery and somewhat scaled in appearance. The face was flat, but teeth extended from the lower jaw like tusks, its lips curled up to expose rows of small, sharp teeth. The eyes were the worst, a dull yellow glow shot through with reptilian pupils that seemed to bore into him. Would it know? Could it see through Terushima's glamour. It's claws clicked against the stone and Akaashi grappled with the terror that was screaming for him to run from this place. 

Lord Bokuto approached him, each step falling like cannon fire against the stone until he reached the carpets they stood upon. He was just as tall as his son, even though his shoulders weren't as broad, and his presence was suffocating. He wasn't taller, but he still seemed to tower over Akaashi and in a fleeting moment of clear thought, he lowered his eyes as he expected Koutarou would. 

“I hope you are satisfied with the small fortune you have cost me. This brief tantrum of yours left three men executed for dereliction of duty. Don't count on any others aiding you.” Akaashi looked up at him, head still bowed. The timbre of his low voice moved through his bones and his bound hands twitched. Could he manage to kill him? Was it possible to be fast enough? His eyes darted to the mantircore.

Lord Bokuto moved with uncanny speed, hoisting the walking stick, its silver head heavy and carved, and Akaashi barely had time to lean back as the larger and sharper end crunched against his face. Stars burst in his vision and he fell to his hands and knees, blood splattering across the ornate rugs. He felt it run hot down his face, his cheekbone exploding in blinding pain. He could taste the iron in his mouth as his vision swam. 

“You would dare to look at me with such defiance? How quickly it would seem the lessons I taught you flitted away.” He grabbed Akaashi by the hair yanking his head back to look at him, and he tried desperately to change his expression to one of fear. It was hard when pain was roaring through him all he felt was bitter rage. 

“At least you're quieter now,” Lord Bokuto snarled with a sneer, letting his head drop again. Shit, he'd forgotten about that. “Valen, bring the cleric to fix his face. It's the only part of him worth anything. And he has a new wife to impregnate, so we'll keep him looking his best.” Akaashi's stomach churned as he looked back up at the Lord, into his ruthless smile. What would Koutarou say to him?

“No. Please.” The words barely escaped him before Lord Bokuto's icy fingers gripped his jaw, his pupils small in his burning gaze. His voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You will put an heir in that girl, or I will. I promise you, I won't be nearly so gentle. So handle your 'inclinations' and fulfill your duty. Or that poor innocent girl will be the one to suffer for it.” He dropped Akaashi's chin and turned away, leaving him trembling in true horror. This man knew exactly how to wound Koutarou the deepest and had no qualms wielding that knowledge with impunity. The intensity of his desperation to not come back to this place was justified with lightning clarity. 

As he was lifted back to his feet, blood running hot down his chin and onto his chest, a worse pain was welling within him. Guilt. How cruel he had been to Koutarou all this time, assuming him to be a pampered noble who grew up in the lap of luxury. True, he had likely never wanted for food or shelter, but he had been chained in the shadow of this monstrous man. A warm hand pressed against his face, a pleasant tingling giving blessed relief to the pounding physical pain. 

“Dress him properly and take him to his chambers. His new wife should be waiting for him.” He sat heavily back on the throne, gripping the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “And clean up this mess!”

As they led him out of the receiving room, Akaashi glanced back once, the manticore drawing his gaze. Those glowing eyes bore into him, with no indication of what lay behind them. He would have to persevere. He would get the girl to lie, together they could convince Lord Bokuto that they had consummated the marriage. Then he would get her out of here too. 

And if he was able, he would kill that man. In so doing, he would bring the great house to its knees, and fulfill both his and Koutarou's wish with grave finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I really prefer villains who are morally gray who I can empathize with. It just gives them so much more depth and makes them so much more believable!  
> Also me: LeT'S maKE BOkutO's dAd tHe FucKINg WorSt HuMAn wE Can iMAgiNe.
> 
> Sorry. He's literally the worst. My bad.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm here, friends. But on the bright side, we're finally going to find out what the heck is up with Kyoutani! I hope you're half as excited to find out as I have been to tell you. <3

Koutarou's walk to the river felt like a death march. Usually he sang, sometimes with the group and his Great Horns companion for that day. But today, they all looked grim and Kunimi was quiet as always. He could almost hear Tanaka grinding his teeth. 

He bit the inside of his cheek as Tanaka unwound the bindings at his wrists, revealing angry impressions and bruising. His bandit friend stared down at them with barely contained outrage. Koutarou's mouth ticked up at the corner. At least that wasn't from what he was thinking. Those marks were reminders of the stolen bliss from just a few hours earlier, something that he replayed again and again to try to cement it in his memory. 

They undressed quickly, slipping into the water with fresh soap cloths, and he noticed Kunimi watching the bandits more closely than usual.

“Something is happening,” he whispered, but Bokuto just shrugged. He couldn't chase away the feeling that he was washing away what he had shared wish Akaashi, that it somehow made it less real. It made him one step closer to being 'Lord Bokuto,' and now, he had no hope of stopping of the inevitable momentum toward that shattered life. Everything beautiful was now in his past. 

A cascade of water hit him and he turned angrily toward Kunimi, who pointed in frustration toward the shore. The bandits were gathered together, heads lowered, and as they broke apart, several wandered back toward camp while Tanaka picked up their clothes and walked out toward them. Kunimi took his elbow and dragged him back to the water's edge. 

“Put your stuff back on, now,” Tanaka said in hushed tones, unclasping one of his belts which held a knife. Another man appeared beside him with another belt and knife.

“Are they here for me?” Koutarou asked, surprised his voice was so steady, his fingers deftly securing the leg wrappings at his thigh.

“I think so, which is why you need to leave now.” Tanaka shoved the belt and knife into his hands and then into Kunimi's. His companion smiled and nodded affixing the belt and testing the knife.

“W-what?” 

“I'm setting you free. Run. Head upriver for about two miles and then cross. Keep going straight, with the mountains to your left and you'll hit a road in a few hours. It will take you toward Johzenji. I wish you luck.” He clapped a hand over Koutarou's shoulder and nodded, his face grave.

“Wait, no. No! I can't go!” The three men stared at him for a moment, before Kunimi gripped his upper arm hard, his face twisted in a grimace. 

“This is your only chance, Koutarou. We have to leave right now. Whatever you're thinking, stop. We're going.” But Koutarou jerked his arm away from him, handing the belt back to Tanaka, who stepped away from him with wide eyes.

“I'm not going. Akaashi told me what's at stake. If I don't return, it means that hundreds if not thousands of people will suffer. The way you guys have made the bandits better, it might mean failure-”

“The bandits have the money already! There's no reason for you to go!” Tanaka hissed at him, clearly wanting to shout but knowing he had to keep his voice low. 

“And when my family hires every mercenary to hunt the bandits to edges of the world and still find me, then what? No. This is the only way. I have to go and hope that I can maybe make a difference from inside. You don't understand. Eito Bokuto won't stop until he has me, so that our family can persist. And his resources are almost unlimited. Thank you for this, Tanaka. But I can't accept.”

Tanaka and Kunimi shared a look of bewilderment, and Kunimi shrugged helplessly. His eyes fell back on the proud noble.

“Are you sure, Koutarou? Because I don't think the Horns can rescue you again.”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for all you've done for me, Kunimi. Please give my heartfelt thanks to Kindaichi and Kyoutani as well. Traveling with you was the best time of my life. You might be the only real friends I've ever had. I'm...I'm sorry.” Kunimi's brows cinched together and his eyes fell to the ground. Tanaka sniffed loudly, wiping a hand over his eyes. The remaining bandits looked sorrowful as well. Damn, he was really going to miss them all.

“You better take me back, so they don't think you're trying to trick them. I don't want any more of you guys getting hurt because of me.” 

Tanaka tied his bonds loosely, higher on his arms away from the red marks. He let out an owl hoot in the direction of camp and they began their trudge back. They didn't even bother to bind Kunimi. He would be free the moment Koutarou was handed over anyway. 

Halfway back, one of the young bandits ran up to Tanaka, out of breath and flushed. 

“Tanaka-san! They must have figured something out! The mercenaries from House Bokuto, they took Bokuto with them, but here he is! Akaashi must have tricked them! They're leaving!”

“Goshiki, slow down. What do you mean they took Bokuto with them?” 

The younger man laid out what had happened, that Akaashi had gone into a tent with the mage and come out with Bokuto. He'd gone with the warrior in charge and an enemy mage, using some kind of scroll. They'd just disappeared. Koutarou's mind was racing. How could they have done it? And if it was somehow a trick, wouldn't all the same problems lie before them that Akaashi had feared? 

They took off as a group, tearing through the forest to the camp clearing, where everyone looked a bit confused, particularly when they laid eyes on Koutarou. Akaashi stood at the center of the group next to Terushima, an unusual scowl creasing his beautiful face. They looked at Koutarou, a nervousness to them that seemed out of place. Tanaka was already releasing his bindings as they approached. He felt a blush creep over him as he came to stand next to the bandit leader, the first time he'd met his eyes since that morning.

“I thought...they had to take me. I don't understand. What did you do?” He asked it haltingly, unsure of what this could mean. Akaashi glared at the ground and then tapped Terushima's shoulder.

“Drop the spell on me, Yuuji.” Koutarou cocked his head to the side, but Akaashi's form wavered in his view, his body seeming to shift shorter and broader and then he blinked and it wasn't Akaashi that stood before him anymore, but Kyoutani. 

“What? I don't...” 

“It was Akaashi. He...made me transform him into you. He went with them. He took your place.” The words that fell from the mage crashed over him and his mind rolled them around, staring at the man with a stricken look.

“What...what do you mean!?” Tanaka cried out, grabbing the mage by the shoulders and shaking him. The rest of the bandits had gathered close and they were starting to exclaim, confusion and concern fluttering through their ranks. Cold dread was creeping up from the soles of his feet, realization finally taking hold. He had gone in his stead. Why? How could he justify such a thing? When they found out...

“We have to go and stop them! We can't let him go!” Koutarou cried out, breaking from the group and heading toward the road. Kyoutani caught him by the arm and pulled him back, panic starting to take hold in Koutarou's chest as his breathing became rapid.

“No, it's too late. They had a recall scroll. He's already back in Fukurodani and we are seven days of travel away. There's nothing you can do.”

“No! No! They'll kill him! The penalty for impersonating a noble is death! How could you let him do this?” He aimed the final shout at the mage who's eyes widened as his hands were thrown out helplessly.

“It's what he demanded! He's our leader and we follow him! There was no reason for me to question him and I didn't ask why!”

“It's because he couldn't send you back there. He wanted you to be free,” Kyoutani said in even tones, but they didn't cut through the icy dismay that was breaking over Koutarou. “We're taking you to the Great Horns so you can live the life you want. You owe him for this, so respect his wish. There is nothing you can do. He must believe that he can escape. And that his life was worth that risk.”

“No! Where are our horses!”

“Bokuto! No! If you go back there then his sacrifice will have been in vain!” Kindaichi had come out of the crowd to set a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't stop seeing the horrified faces of the bandits all around him. Their leader, who he knew, at this point, each one of them would give their lives for, had run headlong into danger to spare him. It was impossible. He couldn't stand for it. Everything in his being screamed that this was unconscionable. He set his jaw and pinned his three Great Horn companions with an iron glare.

“My father will execute him in front of the city. They will hang his body in the square until the birds have eaten it away. Can you stand for that? Because I can't. I was too much of a coward to face that monster, but I can't let them...” Tears stung at his eyes and he shook them away. 

“What can one man do, Koutarou? You'll just be throwing yourself to the wolves. Don't do this. His spell only lasts for three days. If he can't escape, there's no way you can save him.” Kunimi's words were wise and they were true, but he couldn't walk away from this. He couldn't let Akaashi be brave and in turn be nothing.

“I'll do what I should have done long ago. I'll tear down House Bokuto from the inside out. My father is just one man, too.” He heard the nicker of a horse and shouldered through the crowd. Someone ran up to him, carrying his axes and he strapped their holsters around his shoulders. He would go home. He would take Akaashi's broken form down off the gallows and he would finally face his father as a man. Not a simpering boy. If Akaashi, a man who had clearly hated him in the beginning, could believe him worthy of such a gamble, then he owed it to himself and the people of Fukurodani to end it now. 

He hefted a saddle onto the horse, pulling the billet strap tight as he set up the rigging. Another saddle landed on one of the horses next to him and he looked over, seeing Terushima pull it into place with a determined look on his face.

“I'm coming with you. I've got haste spells that may be of help. I don't know how much difference they can really make since they are so short-lived, unless...” he glanced at Kyoutani, who was looking back and forth between the two of them in frustration. 

“No, Yuuji. It will exhaust you. Possibly injure you. This is a fools errand.” 

Tanaka had come to stand beside him, looking on in shock at the group of them.

“Terushima, you didn't even like Akaashi! Why would you do this? You hated him and his moral compass!” Terushima scoffed and leveled a serious scowl at Tanaka.

“I only challenge people I respect. I'm not letting those bastards get away with killing him. And if Akaashi believed in him enough to risk his life, I'm not letting Koutarou go in there alone. Not when I can help.” 

Tanaka's gaze drifted a moment, his gears turning, and suddenly he lit up like a fireball. 

“Veiled Lady, Nishinoya's entourage should only be a couple day's out from Fukurodani! He won't stand for Akaashi getting killed by those nobles. I can send him a missive and have him meet you in the city with a whole company of bandits!”

“There are Great Horns stationed within Fukurodani as well!” Kindaichi almost shouted into the group. “All I have to do is reach one of outposts, which is less than a day's ride from here, and get a message to Takeyuki-san! He would see to it that you had strong warriors, mages, and clerics at your side as well! You know he would vouch for you, Koutarou, he already has.” 

Koutarou stood looking at them in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open. They were building him an army to take House Bokuto and it was really starting to sound possible. He swung up into the saddle, one of the bandits filling the saddlebags with rations and supplies. Another tied Akaashi's scabbard belt and blades onto the back. Terushima went to step up into the saddle as well, but Kyoutani stopped him with a firm hand.

“Damn it,” he said, loud and sharp, a low growl accompanying the expletive. “If you're all this set on this, then fine. We may as well try to get there before Akaashi's spell runs out. Yuuji, cast the haste spell on his horse. You've got enough magic in you for me to make it last until he gets to the city. The animal won't survive, but your bandit lord might. It's going to hurt.” He placed hand roughly on the back of the mage's neck, and a look of fear passed over both their features. He reached toward Koutarou's horse, muttering a chant.

Kyoutani's tattoos, as well as the black lines in his hair and his eyes glowed brilliant gold. The lines from his hair burst outward, creating what looked like a halo of light surrounding his head. He looked other-worldly, his skin perfecting, the rough edges of his features smoothing out. The bandits gasped and stepped away from him as his golden glow intensified.

As Terushima's fingers met the horse, he let out a strangled cry and the animal huffed, its eyes rolling and it's movement's increasing in speed in an unnatural way. The mage fell back into Kyoutani's arms, unconscious and pale, blood spilling from his nose. Tanaka rushed over to help with him, but was somewhat cowed as the golden glow from the berserker diminished but did not fade back into black.

“Your horse will have that unnatural speed for about three days. Yuuji won't be going with you. He's going to sleep for almost as long, as I've drained every drop of magic he had within him. I'll be going with you in his stead.” Koutarou stared at him in awe, his breath taken away by Kyoutani's appearance. He knew the man had strange powers, but this was beyond anything he could have surmised. 

“Will...will the horse carry us both?” he asked in a small voice, a sort of reverence manifesting within him as he looked upon his companion, bathed in the golden light of his own internal fire.

“No. I don't need a horse.” Bright tendrils of light seemed to unfurl from his shoulders, weaving together in large feathered patterns. It took a few breathless moments, but when they had fully culminated into a set of weightless looking golden wings, he stretched them and threw his head back, looking for all like some symbol of divinity from a church tapestry. Koutarou was awestruck, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. Few things could have shocked him as much as the realization that was dawning on him about his grumpy companion he had spent so many days in the company of. Several bandits wiped at their eyes. Kyoutani sighed.

“Yes, I am a celestial. Let's not make a big deal out of it. I'm not like what you've heard. Koutarou, we need to go, now. Tanaka, take care of Yuuji. I've...grown quite fond of him.” Tanaka nodded, his eyes wide and movements stiff as he took the limp form of the mage in his arms.

Kyoutani's wings beat once, lifting him into the air, though the air around them never stirred. He shot off toward the road and Koutarou spurred his horse after him, the speed jarring him as it moved twice as fast as it should have. 

They got ahead of the remaining mercenaries without drawing notice, thanks to the tree cover. Once on the open the road, the horse ran all out and Kyoutani had no trouble matching its speed. They stopped only once before deep night had fallen and Bokuto felt his eyes begin to droop, his grip on the saddle loosening dangerously. 

When Kyoutani landed, his glow faded but his wings stayed manifest and the double halo remained a few inches from his head, just darkening to a metallic gold. His eyes still let off a low luminescence. 

“Why didn't you tell us? Or at least Kindaichi and Kunimi? Aren't they your friends?” He asked innocently, and Kyoutani gave him a stoic look. 

“I didn't want to be treated differently. Everyone here gets weird about it. I'm not different from the person you traveled with for a week. I just have different abilities. Think of me as a mage.”

“But, you must be from Elysium, right? Why are you here? And even more so, why are you helping me with this if it meant exposing you?” Kyoutani sighed and grimaced at his question. He'd never spoken much, but now his silence burned against Koutarou's curiosity. Celestials, just like demons, weren't part of this realm unless magic was involved. Demons were sometimes summoned to aid mages, foolishly, but the people of Elysium, the plane of the divine, were mostly known through history books and legend. The firmest proof that the place existed at all was that something had to balance the existence of the Nine Hells. Being near something so legendary felt like when he stood before the manticore, like he was small and insignificant. 

“It's complicated how I ended up here, but I'm not going back. There's something I was meant for here and things have begun to shift in the world. A new age is beginning. I get pulled toward places and people and I've been waiting. I think you're part of it, Koutarou.” 

He stared at him in wonder. How could that be true? He was so unimportant, nothing but a shadow of everything that had come before him. Though, if he brought down the Bokuto line...the effects would be far reaching. He could be more than just some adventurer. He could be a hero. Someone known not just for his legacy and title, but for his actual deeds. A flush of pride welled beneath his skin, but he extinguished it quickly. If Akaashi was still dead, then...

“What about Terushima? Is he one of those people you've been drawn to?”

“Yes.” Kyoutani's face shifted, a slight flush coloring his golden cheeks as his brow cinched together. “I don't really understand it. It's never been like this before. But from the first moment I sensed his magic I felt...different. I wonder if I was just supposed to save him, but I...it took a piece of my divinity for that. An attachment I can never remove. We are linked and it will change him in some ways, I think it already has. I hope...he will not resent me for that.” 

Koutarou remembered seeing them together, just the night before. There had been little room for doubt that Terushima was focused solely Kyoutani, and that there was true emotion in his face. But, Koutarou didn't feel like there was a particularly good way to convey that without it coming across uncomfortably.

“Does he know?”

“Not fully, not yet. When I return to him from this, I will tell him everything and let him decide. I hope...that he will let me stay.” A profound look of sorrow passed across his usually aggressive features and the glow in his eyes dimmed. Almost without thinking, Koutarou placed a hand on his shoulder, his skin so warm like he had been in the sun for hours. 

“He will. I know it.” The shorter man looked up at him with a genuine smile, his brows low and sly as he nodded. 

“It's too bad that you will not end up joining the Great Horns, Koutarou. You would have made a fine one.” Bokuto's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Wh-what? Why wouldn't I...”

“I don't foresee it. Perhaps it means you will die in the battle to come. But perhaps...” and his smirk deepened as he clapped Koutarou on the back, “you will find there is a better place for you to call home.”

“Will we save Akaashi? Can you see that?” He asked in a rush, hope and fear filling him in equal measure, but his companion just shook his head.

“I can't, nothing so clear. But have hope, Bokuto. Your hope is a powerful thing. It just might reach farther than you can imagine.”

They slept for a few hours before taking to the road once again. The nights were short and the traveling tedious as the miles whipped away beneath frantic hoof beats and silent wings, but by dusk of the third day, they saw the towers of Fukurodani pierce the horizon. It filled Koutarou with dread, but there was some relief as well. Soon he would know if the bandit leader had been discovered and if there was any chance to save him. Soon they would see if the army of bandits and Great Horns had gathered to aid them. 

He stood upon the precipice of what could be the most important moment of his life, the crossroad that would write the story of his future and frame the events of his past. It felt like the culmination of his whole life, and whether he lived or died, he was the only one with the power to choose its course. 

And with all that lay in front of him, all the great and world changing things that could coalesce here, in the streets of gray and gold, only one prayer left his lips to reach the Lady of Light. 

“Please let him live.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Okay guys, this chapter gets really dark. Bad things happen, heavy violence and explanation of past trauma. I'm going to try to bold out the worst parts and give you a brief summary at the end if you'd prefer to skip them. Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> If you'd like to skip, the section starts with bolded **"Yes, many times."** and ends with ' **It must be time.** '

Akaashi was ushered into a room without ceremony, the door clanking closed behind him. They'd barely let him walk on him own, taking him first to a room with mirrors where several butlers had dressed him (a nerve-wracking experience since he wasn't sure how the magic would affect his clothes), the uncomfortable layers of fabric seeming ridiculous given Lord Bokuto's intent for him. Anything they removed from him had strangely disappeared once set down, but no one seemed to notice. He pulled at the tight cuffs of the starchy shirt and the scarf at his throat. He felt like he was suffocating.

The room they had deposited him was lavish, huge, with a beautifully carved canopy bed large enough for nearly four people, a stone mantle with a roaring fire, couches and lounges open to it, and more tables and dressers along the walls. There were two sets of windows, dark curtains drawn and the high ceilings sported rafters that held elaborate chandeliers. 

From around the bed came a wide-eyed girl, her face sweet and soft brown hair draped around her. Her cheeks flushed bright red as her eyes fell upon him and she held the edges of her dressing gown. Her frame was slight, delicate wrists and ankles flashing with pale white skin. Akaashi felt sick as Eito's threat weighed on his shoulders.

“Koutarou, I-I'm so glad you're back. I-” she stepped toward him, her eyes seeking the floor. He really wasn't sure what to do. Lying to her was the best option, afforded him the best chance of remaining hidden. But the truth was, he was probably going to have to spend a fair amount of time with this woman and she could be a valuable ally if she knew the truth. He also wasn't sure he could convince her he was Koutarou, depending on how well she knew him. Yes, the truth up front was likely the best option if he wanted her help. 

“Listen, please remain calm. I'm going to tell you some frightening information and I need your help. You are in danger here.” She blinked at him as he held out his hands, like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“What? Koutarou, I know you tried to run away, but I really think we should try to make the best of things. I like you! I'm excited to get to know you better.” She crossed to him and took his hands, a sweet look of compassion on her face as she tried to appeal to him. A squirming feeling in his chest told him that she probably would have been a good wife, if the young noble ever could have wanted such a thing. There was a kindness to her that was genuine. He sighed.

“I'm not Koutarou. I've been made to look like him in order to spare him coming back. I put my life in your hands telling you this. I plan to escape and I want to help you escape as well. Eito means you terrible harm if you stay, miss.” 

She pulled her hands away from him slowly, disappointment creeping over her face. She searched his eyes and hers became glossy with tears that spilled over her cheeks to drip on her white robe.

“Oh,” she said in a shaky voice, and he felt great sympathy for her, but made no move to comfort her. He didn't know how to do such things with delicate creatures. “Thank you. For being honest and not...taking advantage of me. Considering you're the second not-Koutarou I've been around now, I guess I shouldn't be surprised.” Her brow creased in frustration. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sure this has been very hard on you. But I need your help, for both our sakes.” He went to the windows, moving the curtains aside. Not only were they about three floors up from the ground, but there were bars on the windows. The rust on the bolts suggested they had been there for years. He tested them and didn't budge.

“I won't tell anyone, but I can't help you either. My skills are in diplomacy, etiquette, and history. I don't really know what will happen to me if they don't get Koutarou back, but I'm not leaving. I'm here to be the next Lady Bokuto. If Koutarou wishes to escape me so badly, then perhaps they will simply send me home.”

“They won't.” He turned toward her with a dark look. She was a young girl, her heart the greatest woe of her life, and he would have to bruise her petals with truth in order for her to understand. “Lord Bokuto needs an heir to the House. He was quite clear on how that would happen should I not be responsible for it. He will force himself on you. You'll bear a child for House Bokuto with their blood, but you will be a prisoner and a victim of violence for it.”

“What!” Her face paled and she clutched at her clothes. 

“Which is why you will need to pretend that we did more than talk in this room when you go back out there. I assume you're a maiden still. If you walk with a bit of a limp, like your legs are sore-”

“No! I'm not...I'm not going to pretend such indecent things! Gods, the indignity of this...” her hands fell over her face and she sobbed. Akaashi sighed deeply. 

“I'm sorry, but the alternative is far worse. Please. Koutarou is not coming back here. They won't find him. He aims to destroy House Bokuto because of the evil they have perpetuated, something I'm sure you are unaware of. If you choose not to follow this ruse, then you will suffer for it. It's that simple.” She looked at him in stricken horror, gazing around the room and chewing her lip. She crossed her arms in front of her. 

“I doubt Koutarou would be rough enough to make me limp,” she huffed, her face blushing fiercely. Akaashi couldn't help the small smile that curved his lip.

“Dear girl, I doubt very much he could have performed for you at all given his preferences, but there are things about him that would leave you sore, regardless of how gently he treated you.” Her face brightened to an even rosier shade as she looked him over. “Besides, a bit of a limp will be evidence without discussion, which I'm sure you would prefer.” 

She brushed her hair behind her ear, approaching him, the blush still heavy on her cheeks. She looked up at him through thick lashes and reached out, smoothing her fingers over his shirt. 

“You...you seem nice. And you look just like him. Maybe...maybe it would be easier if we just...” He caught her wrists, pushing her hands away, and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. This poor girl. Her romantic dream had been shredded and scattered to the wind. She likely believed that she loved Koutarou. He was kind and handsome and honorable, many things that could stir a heart to...

He sucked in a sharp breath at the path of his thoughts, reining them in with a swift shackle of mental control. 

“No. You are a lovely girl, but that holds no temptation for me. Besides, you don't want some stranger in the guise of someone you prefer. But I will show you how to fake a limp. If anyone asks you for details, just feign shyness. I will get you out of here before Eito can hurt you.” He patted her head and she rested it against his broad chest. He hoped that she was up for this. It was his only chance to spare her. “Tell me your name.”

“It's Mika,” she whispered.

That honesty was the best decision Akaashi could have made. His previous infiltrations had not involved masquerading and Mika proved invaluable at helping him navigate the court climate. He didn't do it well, as he couldn't seem to put on Bokuto's charm and energy. However, Mika assured him that while in the presence of his father, Koutarou was often cowed, so it wasn't that unusual. Still, Koutarou's sister kept her steady, golden stare locked on him often. He tried to ignore it, but she was a quiet force, like a building storm. 

Long silver hair fell braided over one of her shoulders and she was still on the surface but her intensity was nearly otherworldy. She was so opposite of Koutarou that beyond physical traits, it was hard to believe they could be related. Mika explained that she was kind but cold, reserved and proper. Everything her father wanted her to be. Haruka Bokuto was beautiful in the way that a finely sharpened blade was, and Akaashi recognized danger when he saw it. 

Only once, on the second day, did she approach him. She dismissed Mika, leaving him alone with her and alert for any threat she might present. She was nearly as tall as he was, though her form was lean and lithe, grace in every movement. 

“Koutarou,” she said, her voice husky and dark, laced with authority. Her eyes pierced him, waiting for a reply. 

“Yes?” he asked, trying to sound nervous. Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. 

“My father is no fool. You must have done little research before taking on this task. He already suspects. What is your goal, stranger?” She whispered the words to him and cold panic flooded through him. His hands twitched. With Koutarou's strength, he might be able to kill her before she could alert the guards or Eito to his ruse. He took a quick look around, but they were alone in the hallway. 

“I don't want any trouble. I merely wish to escape.” She gave a mirthless laugh in response, looking him over, her eyes cold.

“Does Mika-chan know?”

“Yes.”

“And have you touched her? Used Koutarou's hands on her?” Akaashi wrinkled his nose at her question.

“No, nor will I. I instructed her to lie for her safety.” 

Haruka surveyed him carefully, some of the edge melting from her features. Then the corner of her lips raised ever so slightly. 

“Tonight at dinner I will be wearing a hideous necklace. When you see it, loudly and boisterously shout 'Ruka-chan, you wore the necklace I made. You look beautiful.' Father will scold you, but it will dissuade him from his current skepticism.” Akaashi blinked at her instructions, surprise and hope lifting within him. Another ally behind enemy lines? How fortunate.

“Thank you. I will. I'm grateful for your help. I intend to get Mika out of here. I could help you too.” It was a foolish offer. The more people he tried to help, the less likely he could help himself. But something within him screamed that this was someone Koutarou cared for and that...it seemed to matter. 

“No. Get yourself out and Mika if you can. I can't leave. But you have given me some hope, stranger.” Her smiled widened for a moment and Akaashi tilted his head in question. 

“Lavantheus, the manticore, knows that you aren't my brother. He has since the moment you arrived, and yet...he has not told my father. This means two things. One, that as I had hoped, upon his marriage by title alone, Koutarou is now considered the Head of House Bokuto and the manticore is now a loyal servant to him. And two...” she lifted a slender hand to his face, smoothing cool fingers over his brow and cheek, “that you are someone his master would consider an ally. I simply had to make sure you were not taking advantage of Mika. Now that I know that, consider me an ally as well.”

She nodded, taking a step back from him, and turned to go. It was eerie, but he breathed easier. He did not tell Mika and he did just as commanded that evening at dinner. Eito was harsh with him and he played hurt, but he tried to keep the bright presence each time he looked at the awful necklace Haruka wore. She smiled at him and it felt like a lifeline.

If only it had mattered.

When the third day dawned, no chance of escape had presented itself. He was watched at almost all times, and the moments he was not, he was separated from Mika. He couldn't leave her to the savagery of that man.

Kyoutani had not been specific about the timing, so the spell could fade at any time now. If they found him, they would likely kill him. If escape was not probable, then there was only one option left. He needed to kill Eito Bokuto. It would mean his death, but he was likely dead regardless. 

After dressing and instructing Mika to stay in the room, he broke a glass vase and slipped a long shard into his sleeve. He then asked the guards to arrange a meeting for him with his father at once. Waiting for an answer only took minutes but each one felt like an eternity. It was almost like he could feel the magic of the spell slipping away. 

They brought him to a smaller antechamber, and much to his horror, when they swung the doors wide, the manticore waited within. He didn't see Eito. The beast's eye's glowed with inner fire and it surveyed him, scorpion tail dragging against the floor where it sat. This close, it was horrifying, power radiating from it and the sharp scent from it burning in his nostrils. Something heavy came to rest on his shoulder. The silver head of a cane.

“Command him, Koutarou. If that's really who you are.” Cold sweat broke out across his chest and forehead. The beast tilted its head, a low sound, perhaps a purr or a growl, rolling from its throat. Akaashi tried to think clearly, but he was petrified with fear. The silver carving lifted from his shoulder.

“Lavantheus, I am disappointed you would keep this from me.” Eito's voice was a furious rumble behind him and he started to turn, the glass shard slipping into his hand. 

Pain exploded at his temple as the end of the cane crunched against his skull. He fell to the floor and a terrible tiredness rushed up. He tried to fight it, knowing that losing consciousness would break the spell, but the shadows dragged him under and darkness claimed him. 

When he woke once more, his head pounded with blinding agony. His fingers felt numb as rope bit into his wrists, hands tied high to either side of his head. He moved his feet under him so he could lift up, relieving some of the pressure, but his vision swam from the earlier head injury. He was cold, stripped down to just his pants and his body was definitely his own once again, slimmer and more flexible. He tried to stretch against the bonds, but his wrists were already bloody from them.

From the darkness, Eito emerged into grim torchlight, two guards on either side. Akaashi gritted his teeth. The guards wore knuckle wraps and no shirts. There was only one reason for that. 

Eito lifted his chin with the silver handle of the cane, shining and cleaned of his blood from the first blow. He would need to steel himself for this. Fall back into his training. Become the Talon once again. 

“You did a poor job of pretending to be my son. Asking to meet with me was your ultimate mistake. My coward boy would never face me alone.” 

“He's no coward,” Akaashi replied with smooth surety at him and Lord Bokuto smiled.

“Oh he is. And I will still find him, bandit. I think along the way I'll rid the roads of your influence. About time someone did something about you criminals.” Eito leaned in close to him, his deep golden eyes filled with malice. “Did you fuck my son's wife, bandit?”

**“Yes, many times.”** He had known this question would come, and he forced an arrogant smile, locking eyes with Lord Bokuto. The man's face twisted in a grimace and the cane came down hard on his collarbone, splintering white-hot fire through him. It just allowed him to slip further, to place all the humanity he had regained to the background. He looked into the man he hated, had hated his whole life, and shucked away the emotion as the bonds of control snapped tight into place. He didn't cry out, his face held stoic and his gaze steady. “Now, you'll have to wait to have your heir, in case I managed your instructions and placed one there myself.” 

It would spare her, for a time. There would be no point in Lord Bokuto ravishing her when she could simply be pregnant with the child of a bandit. It would earn him more strikes but give her months to try to escape, if she was smart. 

“I'm surprised. You're very pretty, and given your choices, I would have assumed you to be one of my son's elicit lovers. But perhaps not, since you seem to know so little of him.”

“Oh no, I fucked your son too.” 

This earned him a sharp crack across the face, much like the very first strike Eito had levied against him. He spit blood and a tooth onto the stone floor, raising his eyes back to meet the furious lord. “I was hoping to bed your daughter as well and complete the set.” 

Eito's fist connected with his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs and making him cough and gasp. 

“This was a foolish mistake. I don't know why you did it, but I don't care either. The punishment for impersonating a noble is death. The punishment for defiling my daughter-in-law will be administered by these men. By the time they finish with you, you will be nothing more than some poor broken thing barely fit for the birds to feast upon. I hope that when we drag Koutarou back here, there will be enough of you left hanging on the gallows for him to see what his choices have wrought.”

He turned on his heel, snapping his fingers at the two guards who stepped forward. Akaashi lifted his chin in defiance.

As the first blow fell, he retreated into his memory. The words of his mentor rang strong in his head, the heat from those distant burning blades still sharp when Akaashi thought of his voice.

_I'm going to hurt you. I will hurt you so badly, just this once, so that anything an enemy could do to you will pale in comparison. You'll never be the same, but you will be stronger. Under injury or torture you will remember this and think to yourself; I have survived worse._

Oh, the things their master had done to them. It was the last time he had lost control completely, begged and pleaded, threatened and bargained, he would have done anything to stop the pain. It engulfed his whole being until he knew nothing but burning horror and those desperate moments where it lessened for even an instant. 

He had no idea how long it lasted. Hours, days, even weeks, time was irrelevant under such affliction. Even as he felt the distant crack of bone under the fists of his assailants, it was nothing compared to what he had endured at hands of his own caretaker. The blistering chains across his back had been the breaking point. It was that, the burning metal striking down on him and tearing away, again and again, that hollowed him. He'd stopped feeling. Something rose within him to take his place and he had let it and he had learned how to pull away. 

That was why his master had left the scars. To remind him of the moment he had broken from his humanity.

Over the years he'd worked tirelessly to claw his way back to the surface. If he was being honest, those brief moments of turmoil he had shared with Koutarou were perhaps the closest he had ever come. It felt like surrender to fall back within the warm embrace of that emptiness, but what did it matter. He was going to die. Perhaps it was the price to be paid for those sweet flickers of humanity he had found with the berserker. Perhaps that was all right. 

He let himself lose consciousness several times throughout the ordeal. Each time they would wake him with smelling salts, the harsh, acrid jolt in his nose bringing him back violently, the terrible pain breaking through for just a moment before he could fall back into that dark embrace of his training. Time was irrelevant, just like it had been before. 

When they finally relented, they shoved healing tonic down his throat, just enough to keep him alive for his public execution. They would make an example of him. It didn't matter. His life in exchange for Koutarou's. Maybe even for Mika's. Tanaka would lead the bandits well. He had atoned for many of his sins. This would be the last redemption. 

They woke him with rough hands, cutting his bindings and strapping his arms behind his back. The joints of his shoulders were shattered, so he couldn't use the arms anyway, but the bright and searing agony of them twisting the limbs behind him grounded him to that place of control. **It must be time.**

He heard the bells of House Bokuto thunder through the stone as they dragged him along, through a long hallway and up flights of stairs until a door opened to the night sky. He could only see blearily out of one eye, but he could tell that they had brought him to the ramparts of the estate. It was deep dusk, the red of the dying sun bruising slowly into night and the torches danced in the cool breeze on the high wall. The manticore's eyes burned into him, its still and hulking form gazing back at him as it's mane ruffled about that horrific face. 

Several men parted to reveal Lord Bokuto, the tallest among them. A smile of triumph was painted on his face. The guards brought Akaashi to him, pushing him to his knees before the tyrant, and Eito grabbed his hair, forcing him to the edge of the wall. Vertigo made his head spin as he looked down at the gathered crowd.

“Oh yes, he's here. Not that you can probably recognize him. He has committed the grave offense of impersonating a noble and ravaging a noblewoman. His execution is scheduled at dawn. See what your foolishness has resulted in?” 

Akaashi tried to focus on the crowd below, but his vision was too blurry and he felt sick, nausea churning in his gut.

“Akaashi!” That clear voice, so filled with pain and longing, pierced him like an arrow. He squinted down and Koutarou's form came into sudden focus with a terrible, wrenching truth. 

“You see, rogue,” Eito whispered to him, venom dripping from his words, “you thought you could save him, but you just ended up being the bait I needed. Your sacrifice was for nothing.”

Despair sank its teeth into him. He'd given up everything for Koutarou to escape and there he stood, looking up at him with naked horror and rage, soon to be prisoner again to this monster. All his goodness, all the light that flooded from him to the hearts of every person in his presence, it would be extinguished. He had wasted Akaashi's life. He had wasted everything.

He would have screamed at him, but his jaw was broken and his mouth filled with blood. He couldn't save anyone. 

“You will give my general back, Lord Bokuto, or you'll have a fight on your hands.” 

That voice, though. He knew that one too. A small sliver of hope breached the endless darkness.

It was the voice of his superior, his friend and hero in so many respects. The only one who might be able to get him out of this. The guardian god. The King of the Bandits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scene summary: Akaashi lies and tells Eito that he has slept with Mika to keep him from hurting her for at least awhile. With the possibility of a child not being of the Bokuto bloodline, there's no reason for Eito to do this to her. He also admits to sleeping with Koutarou and taunts Eito further. The guards begin to hurt him after Eito leaves and he relives his training from back when he was forged into a Talon by the prior Bandit King. In short, he suffered a lot to be able to withstand pain and violence, and while he hates having to retreat back into that, he at least feel that his sacrifice is worth it. He realizes that his moments with Koutarou were the human he has felt in a long time and is grateful for them. His training is what left the scars on his back. By the end of the scene, he is very badly injured but not mortally wounded.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know, I know, I added a chapter, but please don't be mad! There was just too much to put at the end, and I promise that it's better this way than if I tried to end it on this chapter! Sorry!
> 
> Anywho, two songs for our beloved Bokuto-san this chapter! Lyrics have been updated to fit the setting. 
> 
> [Bells – The Unlikely Candidates](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l016PurMM_8)   
>  [Woke Up a Rebel – Reuben and The Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fil2R1oGXZ0)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! I hope you enjoy!

As Koutarou entered through the city gates, Kyoutani at his side, all signs of his celestial heritage once again hidden, he felt his gut clench with terror. As the dim light of dusk settled over the city, the orange hues casting it aflame, he saw that the streets were sparse and a heavy silence weighed upon the city. At sundown, the bells of his house would usher the city into night with their grim song. He trembled at the prospect of hearing them once again.

“Kyoutani, where are they? How will I find the people I was meant to meet here? The streets are empty.” He looked down at the fierce berserker, who cast him glance without easing the scowl that creased his brow.

“Call them to you. If they're here, they'll come.”

“How?” Kyoutani gave him a long suffering look.

“Sing, you idiot.” 

Bokuto chewed his lip. Would they hear him though? Would the wrong people here? Did he risk alerting his father? It didn't much matter, he supposed. He looked up the hill that the main road stretched over, knowing that at the top lay the courtyard gallows, where he may very well find Akaashi's body. He took a deep breath, waiting, waiting for the bells.

And with all of his burgeoning desperation, he called out to any who could hear, who might join his cause. It started with just a low hum, but he felt it move through his blood like life through a river. 

_“There used to be an angel watching over me. But he left me when I drank of river of blood, down in Johzenji...”_ He locked eyes with Kyoutani, and his companion gave him a cocky smile, unhooking the bindings that held the warhammer to his back. 

_“I used to see the light in the dark souls around me. But I traded all my life for some loving and some gold, down in Nohebi...”_ A figure stepped out of an alley as they passed, falling in stride with them, a short blade glinting from his grip. Koutarou noticed him share a glance with Kyoutani, a nod of recognition, and the other berserker began to hum along with his song. He saw the tallest bell tower of House Bokuto crest over the hill as they ascended and his resolve set even more firmly.

_“And where we go, nobody knows. Those bells are ringing, ringing loud,”_ The first of the bells of his house struck in time with the music, seeming to amplify his voice, and where only one man had been following them, three more had now joined. 

_“Oh Lord, we're going down, six under ground, those bells are ringing, ringing loud, Oh Lord...”_ And as his voice fell away with the echo of the bells, he heard more voices humming than just Kyoutani's. More figures materialized from the shadows as they ascended the street and now they were a group of nearly a dozen, their low humming buoying him as the top of the gallows came into view. He swallowed hard, fear tearing at his chest. 

_“They laid me down in Nekoma. They say we're gonna dig it for ya. You wasted all your life, you never got it right, now we'll teach you 'bout loss and pain.”_ Two bodies hung from the gallows but a rush of relief swept through him when he saw that were old, desiccated things, unrecognizable. There was no way they could be Akaashi, which meant he was most likely alive. He had made it in time. His voice grew in power as the gates of the Bokuto estate came into view.

_“But this is something that Johnny Blue, cannot ever take from you. You can take my sword, and you can take my boots, but those hounds, they coming for you! No,”_ And then the streets were filled with men, perhaps over a hundred of them, the bells crying out over them but the low hum of their voices and percussive stomp of their feet melded them into one singular creature. They descended on House Bokuto with no hesitancy.

_“And where we go, nobody knows. Those bells are ringing, ringing loud, Oh Lord, we're going down, six under ground, those bells are ringing, ringing loud,oh Lord, oh Lord. Oh Lord!”_ As the final ascending note rang through the night on the heels of the last bell of twilight, the throng came to a silent halt before the gate. The guards trembled, passing each other nervous glances. He didn't recognize them.

A man came into his periphery, taller than even he was and armored head to toe in silver plate mail. He held a tower shield close to his body, spikes coming off of it, and a huge mace in his opposite hand. He looked formidable just from his gear, but as his sharp scowl met Koutarou's eyes, his level of intimidation crashed through the young noble. The man seemed to have no eyebrows, only an intense glare, white hair peeking out from his helm. He nodded to Koutarou. 

“The Iron Wall of Date, that bodes well for for you, Koutarou,” Kyoutani whispered to him, indicating the man to his left. Koutarou's eyebrows shot up. Aone, the Iron Wall, was one of the best known Great Horns to be active in the guild, a ferocious battle cleric of the Lady of Light. It was said that his men could never fall because of his magic and ferocity and because of this, their lines never broke. He felt humbled in his presence. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to the two guards who gripped their pikes with white knuckles.

“I am Koutarou Bokuto, eldest son of House Bokuto. Open the gates.” The two guards looked at each other, and then back to him. One of them stepped forward with a flinch.

“Sir, I um, Koutarou Bokuto is already here. You can't be...” Koutarou pointed to the tattoo across his chest, passing the woman a glower. 

“Open the gates,” he said again, putting more command behind his words, and he saw the other guard exchange a look with the guard standing inside the portcullis. 

“Seems you've made a few friends on your little excursion, Koutarou.” The deep, icy voice shot through him, making an old and long ingrained fear rise to the surface. He tilted his head to look up, the figure of his father looming out from the ramparts above. It was perhaps 50 feet high, but Eito's voice carried clearly over the gathered people. He saw the huge figure of the manticore peer over the edge as well, his eyes burning in the darkening skies. 

“I have. Now open the gates!” He yelled up at his father, but his chest was tight. The man had a way of making other men feel powerless. Koutarou most of all. Eito smiled down at him, arrogance written across his features. One of his wizards stood to his side, spells of protection no doubt already sunken into his father's skin. Eito would never be slain by a mere arrow or spear. In the eyes of those he terrorized, he was nearly as immortal as the legendary creature that stood at his side. 

“Happily, once you are the only one standing before my gates, my son. Dismiss this little band of miscreants, and I'll let you back in to your gilded cage. But I'll not risk any more infiltrators within these walls.” His eyes burned a dark amber, reflecting the flickering of the street lamps and to Koutarou, he looked every bit the devil he knew him to be.

“Where is he? He wasn't hanging from the gallows, so you must not have killed him yet. You must still have him.” His lungs filled with fire as his father's smile split to show his white teeth. He turned away from them then, the guards standing behind him shuffling out of the way of something. 

Eito leaned down and Koutarou craned his neck to try to see what was happening. Suddenly, Eito hauled a man to the edge of the wall, hands bound behind his back. His face was bloody and bruised, he was thin and his dark hair curled as it twisted in Lord Bokuto's fingers. Koutarou felt his heart stop. Horror flooded his veins as he began to pick out the features of Akaashi. He looked like they had beaten him almost to death.

“Oh yes, he's here. Not that you can probably recognize him. He has committed the grave offense of impersonating a noble and ravaging a noblewoman. His execution is scheduled at dawn. See what your foolishness has resulted in?” Eito's words bit into him, sending him a few steps back into the group. Terrible guilt gnawed at him. It was his fault this had happened. He never should have run away, he never should have tried to convince Akaashi that he was worth anything, should have just obeyed. It was what he had always been best at. Now, great suffering had come out of it. And he knew he shouldn't care so much, but seeing the proud bandit leader reduced to this...it was destroying him in a way nothing else ever had.

“Akaashi!” He shouted up at him and Akaashi's gaze lifted to him. His face was too battered to make out any expression, but Eito leaned over and whispered something to him that made his whole body shiver. Anger flared bright, the rage beating suddenly harsh against him as it strained to be released. He held it back as fear overshadowed it, fear that his father might throw the bandit leader from the wall to his death. 

A short man maneuvered in front of him, quick and light as a shadow. He threw back the dark cowl that had covered him to reveal sharp features and serpentine eyes that stared up at Lord Bokuto with a challenge. His hair was dark and short aside from a starburst of light bangs in the very center of his forehead. He angled a sharp toothed grin up to the ramparts. 

“You will give my general back, Lord Bokuto, or you'll have a fight on your hands.” Koutarou stared at him, the swagger with which he had just threatened the indomitable Eito Bokuto was staggering. Koutarou's father narrowed his eyes, dropping Akaashi back behind the low wall and out of sight. If this guy considered Akaashi his general, then that must mean...

“That's right, Lord Bokuto,” the smaller man continued, his tone cocksure and light considering the gravity of the situation. “You've gotten the attention of the Guardian God, King of the Bandits. Now, your son is here, so all things are even. Give me back my man and I'll take my people and go.” His tone was so casual and fear was twisting in Koutarou's gut as he stared at him. His father sneered. 

“Why don't you stay, Bandit King, and make yourself easy to wipe from the face of the world. Your man will hang at dawn and you beside him for your crimes against the people. Lavantheus, bring me his head.” 

Eito pointed and the manticore leaped from the ramparts to land before the rogue. All the men around them, including Kyoutani and the Iron Wall stepped back in fear as that monstrous visage scanned the crowd. Koutarou stepped forward, up next to the Bandit King. The small man's cloak dropped from his shoulders, revealing fitted black studded leather. His hands shot out, thick leather gloves encasing them and twin blades extended from the crease of his knuckles, another hand's length out. He rolled onto the balls of his feet and two more daggers slipped from the toes of his boots. He stood at the ready, fearless in the face of the legendary beast. 

Lavantheus, however, did not attack them. Instead, he took a step toward Koutarou and faced him, bowing low on his forepaws in fealty. Koutarou had heard his voice relatively little over the years, still jarred by how deep and grating it was, inhuman but still clear to all in the gathered crowd.

“Koutarou Bokuto, you are recognized as the head of House Bokuto. My master until your title is passed on. Consider me your humble servant.” A wicked smile twitched at the beast's lips as his glowing eyes rose to meet him. Koutarou's heart thundered in his chest as he shared a glance with the bandit king. His eyes rose to meet his father's.

“What! No! Lavantheus, I am still head of this House! You obey me!” His face was stricken, his tone strangled. All that arrogant and vicious composure that Eito seemed to carry about him like a mantle was stripped away in an instant. His dark amber eyes seemed to glow even brighter in the darkening light. 

The manticore rose, its eyes locked on Koutarou. Its tail lashed at the ground. 

“The laws of Fukurodani state that upon marriage the eldest son of a noble house is passed the title of Lord. Upon those grounds he shall become head of the House and the prior Lord shall become his Regent. I serve only the Lord of House Bokuto and no other.” He turned to stand protectively in front of the group, leveling a monstrous glare at Eito. 

At first it was only once voice from the crowd behind him, no words, just a voice raised in a triumphant call, but soon many more joined it, fists and weapons thrust to the sky as they cheered behind him and a new feeling roiled within him, one that he had never felt before. Power. With this small army of Great Horns and Bandits and the manticore on his side, the chances of victory were increasing. He looked up at Eito with a defiance he had not dared to show him for years. He pulled his axes free. 

“Open the gates!” He shouted, and the two guards in front of the portcullis bolted, running in opposite directions away from the mounting tensions. Eito turned from the wall and began barking orders, men beginning to run in all directions. They were still afraid of him, with good reason. The rogue at his side turned back to the gathered group. 

“Yamamoto! Up the ramparts!” Another man stepped forward at his summons, tall, with a bright blonde mohawk and a huge bow, nearly as tall as he was. The arrows he nocked were huge, thick as an iron fire poker and looking just as heavy. He fire them off in a fast retort as the bandit king rushed toward the wall and the sound of their impact was as staggering as ballista fire. Shot after shot he fired, and as the arrows landed, the Guardian God climbed them as easy as a ladder. They were going after Akaashi. 

Koutarou looked over to Aone, who cocked his head at him and took a few steady strides to stand next to him. He was leader of the Great Horns who had gathered here, no doubt, and his healing magic was needed. Koutarou turned to the manticore who watched him with his burning gaze.

“Lavantheus, will you take this man safely up to the ramparts?” Aone bristled at his request, but the beast knelt low before him. The tall battle cleric eyed the huge scorpion tail warily. “It's okay, he is our ally. He won't let you fall. It's just like, eh, riding a horse, right?” He offered up a beaming grin, but the severe man's expression didn't change. He lifted his tower shield and stepped over the beast's back, seating somewhat awkwardly on the broad shoulders. Koutarou handed him Akaashi's blades, which he threw over one arm. 

“Hold onto my mane, human. The jump will be jarring,” Lavantheus grated, and Aone gripped its mane tightly in both hands, knees squeezing its ribs. It tensed and sprung, unnatural strength taking it all the way to the top of the wall, even with its heavily armored passenger. It landed with such aberrant grace that Koutarou shivered. Even spending his life around the beast, he had never grown accustomed to it. 

The bandit king crested the wall at about the same time and gave a quick hand signal to the men below. Several more men rushed forward and began to climb the heavy arrows. He locked eyes with Koutarou.

“Well, Lord Bokuto, once my general is taken care of, we'll give you a grand entrance to your new estate, won't we friends!” The returning cheer warmed his heart, but already the rush of battle was breaking out above. He passed a look to Kyoutani, knowing he could fly up to help them, but the shorter man shook his head with a dark scowl, glancing around at the gathered people. Koutarou nodded. He approached the portcullis and the guard within looked pale and frightened. 

“I don't know you, but please, open this gate and spare yourself. You can leave. You don't have to fight for him. We'll let you pass.” 

“Can you win?” the poor man implored him, hands around the iron bars, desperation in his eyes. “Do you really think you can defeat him?”

“If I can't, then House Bokuto falls either way. I'll never submit to him again. We have a small army of men, more loyal than my father's mercenaries and we have the manticore. And you have me. Please.” 

The shaking man took one more moment of deliberation, sweat shining on his face, his eyes glossy. Then, his expression set in glower and his hand reached out, pulling the lever that began to lift the gate. More shouts of elation rang out. The guard ran back through the throng as they surged forward around Koutarou. His axes raised, he felt the rage begin to pulse through him, finally releasing it as his eyes fell upon the line of mercenaries who awaited them. Magic began to pound in his temples and he felt the fervor of those around him, needing to stoke that fire just as he burned brighter in the onslaught of the rage. 

_“The blood will not dry...”_ His voice began to ring out, clear and powerful, touching each heart it fell upon with an iron certainty.

_“And time will not heal...”_ The leader of mercenary band, a tall and powerful woman he recognized, but had not known well, gripped her heavy maces in white knuckles. The warriors around her seemed to waver in their resolve.

_“I want to be free...”_ Those who had come to support him, his men, came up along side him, weapons at the ready. Kyoutani stood at his side, his warhammer held forward in his firm grip.

_“But the blood will not dry. And the sun disappeared, through the hole in the sky.”_ A shimmering field fell around them, a protective spell from one of the mages, a similar sheen falling over their enemies as a volley of arrows was loosed at them. They fell harmlessly to the ground. His body felt hot, the axes good in his hands, like they were meant to be there. 

Something moved against his left arm that drew his gaze and he looked over. Twin blades arced up to thin, pale hands, lean but strong arms cloaked in a dark cowl. The halo of shadowy loose curls that fell about his face cast his pallid features even brighter in the sparse torchlight of the courtyard. Akaashi looked up at him, his beautiful face still streaked with blood, but his vicious wounds had been undone. His eyes were so deep blue that Koutarou have drowned in them. Fire burned in his veins with a sharp and protective instinct that made his chest feel tight. 

_“Oh, they made me a shadow, and blackened my bones,but I will rise.”_ The manticore landed in the space between them, a terrible thunderous roar breaking from its throat as it rounded upon the mercenaries. Voice continuing to carry, Koutarou broke from their standoff and charged, his axes raised to his side, begging for the blood of those who would stand against him. 

_“I die like a saint, was reborn a devil. I slept like a slave, and woke up a rebel.”_ His weapons clashed with the leader of the mercenary group, axe blades meeting the curving flanges of the maces. She smiled like a demon, bloodlust pounding through her veins, though her eyes were clear and her movements calculated. A dark smile spread across Koutarou's face as well.

He moved like water around her, all the bulk of his body flowing smoothly from the battle rage, his instincts heightened. She was a great fighter, strong and sure, but he felt her weaknesses like cracks in armor. He rained down blow after blow, repeating the chorus of his anthem for his men and her steps faltered. In that brief moment an opening emerged and he caught the shaft of her off-hand weapon in the crook of one axe, twisting them both and slamming his opposing blade into the seam of her breastplate and cuisse, right at her hip. A terrible howl tore from her as dark blood ran down the metal plates and she went down to one knee. 

Regular Koutarou would have hesitated, offered her escape or surrender, given mercy to his enemy. It was why the rage was so important. The warrior-beast that he had become knew no such empathy. An axe found her neck with a follow-through that nearly severed her head from her shoulders as she slumped to the ground. He didn't even look back before turning to the next adversary. 

_“I am wild, I am lost, I am sick, I am damned. But I'm holding redemption in the palm of my hand.”_ Just as his blades took down another foe, he felt a powerful force of kinship at his flank. Turning, he found Akaashi, swords raised and bloodied, back to him, and he moved into step with the rogue's smooth fighting style. It was as natural as breathing, moving across the battlefield in a whirlwind of death. 

_“So I tighten my fist and I sharpen my teeth. It's a promise I made, it's a secret I keep.”_ Akaashi rolled beneath his blades, popping up in front of him to impale an enemy who had gained an advantage. In sync with his rhythm, Koutarou's weapons caught the blade that was coming down behind him, spinning with it and twisting it out of the guard's hands. A backward slash from his partner, up under his arm, ended the man before he fell into the berserker. They worked almost as a single animal, a burning tempest laced with shadow and faerie fire. 

They had to make it to the main keep. This battle only ended with the death of Eito Bokuto, he knew that. As he looked to the towering structure, he saw his father on the balcony, looking out over all of them with madness boiling behind his eyes. His gaze met Koutarou's and the warrior-noble pointed up at him, eliciting a grimace of hate from his father.

_“I am looking for trouble and trouble I will find. You'll get what is coming I'll take back what is mine. I'll set fire to this dream. I'll set fire to this dream. And I will rise!”_ His men shouted all around him, their blades falling with glory and justice. One of the huge arrows thudded against a protection spell that surrounded the tyrant and he fell back into the shadows of the keep.

They came to the doors of the fortress, leaving a wake of fallen foes in their path. His axe hit the huge wooden doors once before the manticore shouldered him aside, tearing the wood to splinters with the power of its massive claws. 

_“I died like a saint! Was reborn a devil! I slept like a slave, and woke up a rebel, a rebel.”_ His song died as they stepped out of the melee and into the quiet antechamber of the fortress. Akaashi was still beside him and the bandit king at his other side. They stalked the hallway, no words necessary, as they all knew the task ahead. Coming to the great doors of the receiving room, they both looked to him to lead. He kicked open the doors with a mighty burst. 

Eito Bokuto stood at the back, before his throne-like chair, just pulling the sword free from his cane. Between them stood about a dozen armored guards with weapons raised. Akaashi stepped in front of him, turning meet his eyes with a lightning strike of connection.

“Bokuto-san,” he knew, he understood the power of the rage and that it was drawing his focus to the enemy before him. But his name on the lips of this man pulled him fully to him and he stepped closer so that his flawless face filled his vision. Desire beat beneath the threat, but instinct dictated priority and his hands squeezed the handles of his axes hard. 

“I'll clear a path for you.” Akaashi's voice was soft but his intent was clear. He knew the objective and he would make sure that this day Koutarou would be the victor. He nodded and Akaashi sprung into action, the Guardian God at his heels. They met the enemy force in a whorl of wild fury, each of them spinning through the air as if they were weapons themselves. While Akaashi's blades danced like a dervish, the bandit king spun and twisted his body, catching men with all four of his blades as he whipped through them. Koutarou's eyes remained locked on his father. He began a slow approach that emanated dark intent and felt Eito's fear and found he hungered for it more than he ever could have known.

His two companions forced the group to part and the second there was an opening, Koutarou charged, a terrible cry screaming from his lungs. But Eito was strong, despite his age. His sword deflected the axes and the fear he inspired in his only son, the thing he had worked so hard to cultivate over the years, was beginning to leech the rage from him. 

“You spoiled little shit. You are nothing without me. I made you and I can unmake you just as easily.” His voice was sure, as if the first two parries had solidified his authority. But Koutarou could almost hear the wild beating of his heart as the proud Lord gave up ground, falling back. The edge of an axe met his forearm, blood spattering against the stone floor, and he snarled, a low growl issuing from Koutarou in answer. 

True fear flashed in his father's eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen it so stark and humanizing and it blazed under his skin. He could do this. He could not only topple House Bokuto, he could take the dark tyrant who had made his life miserable along with countless others down with him. He wouldn't just be the quiet destroyer, but a hero, who burned away the sins of his blood for all the world to see. His teeth gritted and he threw his shoulder into the next attack, missing the fatal blow but sending Eito sprawling before him. For the first time in his life, his father looked up at him as he loomed over him and it felt like the whole world had fallen at his feet. He raised one glittering axe and stepped forward.

“Your time is over, father. I'll not let you destroy any more lives. It ends now.”

“Koutarou, stop! Don't you care at all about this family? About your duty?” Koutarou sucked in a breath at his words. How could he make such a statement? How could he try to use such a manipulation tactic when he was so cruel and loveless? And yet, there was that part of Koutarou that, though he hated the man and everything about him, spoke in a small but insistent voice in his mind. _He is your father. What kind of man would kill his own father?_

There was a whimper which drew their attention as Koutarou advanced on him, and he finally saw that two women were curled together behind the ornate chair. He vaguely recognized the woman who had been set to be his bride, but the other was his sister Haruka, who's bright golden eyes found him. Intensity burned within her and fear blossomed in his chest like a sickness. 

As if he could sense the shift, Eito scrambled to his feet and reached out, grabbing Haruka and hauling her up in front of him, smearing blood across her silver dress. His blade came to rest at her throat. Rage and terror pummeled Koutarou in equal measures as Haruka's eyes widened. His sister had been the one constant source of warmth in his life, a love without condition or measure. There was no life more precious to him than hers. 

“One of you can leave here alive, Koutarou. But it won't be both. I won't hesitate to take from you that which you value most. She's only a girl, after all.” Blood welled beneath the blade pressed to her neck and Haruka gave him a panicked look. The last of his battle rage was burning away and he felt a terrible emptiness take hold. That helpless feeling his father had always inspired in him. He'd been so close to victory, but how could he put his sister in danger? His blades drooped. 

How could he come this far only to fail now? Everything he and what all of those men had fought for, died for, it would all be for naught. But while he could certainly sacrifice himself, Koutarou lacked the ability to sacrifice those he loved, no matter how greater the good. And here, there was no manticore, no force of men, no strength he could have that could come between his father's blade and his sister. He watched that vicious surety creep back into Eito's eyes as his lips pulled up into a triumphant smile. Koutarou's axes clanged as they met the stone floor. He thought of his words to the guard at the portcullis. _I'll never submit to him again._ His heart clenched with bitter self-loathing.

“Please, let her go. I submit.”


	15. Chapter 15

The sound of Koutarou's axes hitting the stone reverberated through Akaashi like thunder. He had been working in perfect harmony with Nishinoya to keep the guards away from him, felling a few but enough remained to take all of their focus. But the sound of that terrible clang had drawn his gaze and he'd seen what Koutarou faced, Haruka's desperate expression, bright blood on her pale throat. 

And Koutarou's hunched shoulders, his whole demeanor shattered. The words that broke through even the cacophony of battle. 

“I submit.”

The force of those words, spoken with such a terrible and strangled voice from his brave warrior, tore into him more fiercely than any of the brutality Eito's men had committed against him. All of the screaming pain in his muscles was drowned by the constriction in his chest and throat. This man, however foolishly, had come for him. Had rallied a small army, had stood before the gates of his own hell and demanded entrance, burning like a star fallen from the heavens. He had been an unstoppable force on the battlefield, weaving through it with all the power and grace of a forest fire. 

He'd been swept up by the berserker, fallen under his spell the moment he had stood next to him on the precipice of conflict. And once again, he'd fallen in step with his movements, matched the rhythm of his song and their swordplay had become a dance of death. He had never felt so inspired, never truly _felt_ battle move through him like this. Even now, as if a flame was extinguishing, he felt the warmth drain from his limbs. 

He looked to Lord Bokuto, his smug gaze fixed on Koutarou. His sword pulled a few inches from Haruka, allowing her a breath. Without thought, Akaashi peeled from the group of guards, movements low and swift, he wrapped himself in the shadows of the room. His feet were silent as they met the stone, still bare from the dungeon, but he was grateful for that. He pulled his blades close to his body so they wouldn't glint.

Koutarou fell to a knee, his gaze cast down and Eito shifted his grip on his daughter, his large hand wrapped around her throat as the sword turned toward his son. And it was strange. Akaashi thought only briefly of the hatred that had simmered in his gut for this man for so many years. He didn't think about his parents, about his own life and the things he had endured, or the terrible crushing vengeance that had left his heart yearning for blood for so many years. All he saw was a man who threatened the light which had pierced through his thick shroud of darkness, despite logic and reason, the man who kept it from shining and would douse it forever with his wickedness. He realized that he didn't want for Koutarou to kill him, because even though his father had caused him nothing but pain, there was a softness within the warrior that would be forever injured should he kill his own father. Especially if his sister died in the process. 

Something inside of him refused to allow for that. The same beast that had decided that they would rescue him once the mercenaries of House Bokuto came for him. The same one that reacted without sound logic to go in his place. It was as natural as breathing and it was what moved him now, drew his blades toward the source of that man's suffering like the flow of fate. 

Not vengeance.

Not even justice.

Protection. 

As Eito's blade moved forward toward Koutarou, that rage and villainy seeking his life blood, Akaashi shifted behind him without notice. There was no thought to it as his blade slipped beneath Lord Bokuto's raised arm, sliding between his ribs and up into his shriveled heart. The cane sword barely nicked Koutarou's throat before falling from his father's fingers. Hot blood ran down his scimitar as Akaashi pulled in close to Eito, jerking him away from Haruka as she lunged forward to fall into her brother's arms. 

“All your silver could never buy you true loyalty. Your son will be remembered as the hero who brought you to your knees.” His whisper was harsh, intimate, direct into Eito's ear and was met with only a gurgle of response. He shoved the back of his knees, making him fall forward and kneel as his sword pulled free. He flicked it, sending Eito's blood spattering in an arc across the floor. As the great tyrant fell forward, Akaashi looked up to meet Koutarou's eyes.

Those bright golden sunspots met him, and the last of his darkness seemed to flee from their power. There were no words to fully encompass how his warrior looked at him now. Gratitude, adoration, desire, even love, none could elicit the stirring they caused within him. No one had ever looked at him like that. He felt it change him, remake the very bones beneath his skin. In that moment, he was reborn. 

Koutarou's eyes slipped closed, tears falling from them as he held Haruka tight and Akaashi breathed again. A whimper drew his gaze. Mika sat huddled behind the throne, face buried in her knees and hands over her ears. Akaashi rushed to her, brushing her arm gently with the tips of his fingers. She startled and cried out, her eyes meeting him in stark terror as she jerked away. He realized that she would have no way of knowing who he was.

“Shhh, Mika, it's okay. It's me, the Koutarou you spent the last three days with. It's okay now.” He wasn't sure how soothing his voice really was, but she looked him over with those wide doe eyes and then flung herself into his arms. “You're safe now. I told you I would get you out of here.” 

She sobbed against his shoulder before pulling back, her face red and blotchy. Still, the edges of a smile shone through. Her hands found his face, pushing his hair away and she studied his face. He hadn't wanted to care about her, but they had shared so much over the past few days, his life in her hands, there was no way he could have remained detached. 

“You're so beautiful. I didn't expect that. Will you tell me your name now?” 

“It's Keiji. Keiji Akaashi.” A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to see Nishinoya grinning down at him, a vicious gash across his cheek hardly dimming his impossibly good humor. 

“Stop flirting and come on. We've got to stop the fighting outside. You can impress all the girls later.” Nishinoya winked at Mika and she blushed, turning away shyly. The bandit king was nothing if not charming. They stood and he saw the Bokuto siblings standing over their father. Koutarou had set his jaw and with one of his axes, he severed Eito's head from his shoulders, lifting it for the remaining guards to see. They must have ceased fighting Nishinoya when their Lord had fallen. 

Koutarou and Haruka rushed toward a stairwell in the back and the bandits and Mika followed. It led up and out to the balcony they had seen Eito overlook the battle from. Koutarou approached the lip and lifted Eito's head.

“Halt your blades! Eito Bokuto has fallen!” His voice boomed over the battlefield and the combatants below stayed their hands, their gazes rising to meet him. It didn't matter one bit that he hadn't struck the finishing blow. Not to Akaashi and not to anyone else. He was the hero in a way that the rogue never could be, never wanted to be. He wanted to see him shine. 

Mighty cheers rose up from the gathered men, crashing over them like a wave. People who had only moments ago been intent to kill each other grasped shoulders and hands. Eito's men had no loyalty to him. The manticore leaped up to settle on the balcony, casting Koutarou as an even more impressive figure. He turned to the beast, who bowed its great head to him. He dropped the disgusting head to the floor.

“Lavantheus, thank you. My family has abused your loyalty for too long. I grant you your freedom from your bond. Today House Bokuto falls. There will be no more Lord or Head of House. Return to your life.”

The beast smiled, its burning eyes lowering. It whispered a few words in a language impossible for the human tongue and the marking on Koutarou's chest faded to nothing but his smooth, bronze skin tone.

“I have waited generations for you, Koutarou. It is good that fate has brought you here. Let my fealty be lifted and with it the sins of your forefathers. It was written in the stars that you would find your shadow and bring an end to the tyranny of your house.” 

Koutarou glanced back at him at the manticore's words, his eyebrows raised and eyes wide. Akaashi felt his face heat as he looked away. Surely not. Surely it could not mean him. He didn't really believe in fate, but a nagging at the back of his mind suggested it may be true. 

“You have carried my blessing for years,” the beast continued, its gravelly voice rumbling over them and the crowd below, “your gift of song is special, divine in its power. Do not waste it. Do not use it for evil. Maintain your valiant heart and it will always be there to aid you.” With that, he took a great bounding leap from the balcony, lighting once upon the ramparts and then down, speeding off into the night. Koutarou turned back to the gathered crowd below, now twice as large as people continued to file in and fill the courtyard below. 

“This estate and all its finery now belong to the city of Fukurodani. Let us stay one night and then the last remnants of House Bokuto will leave you forever. Thank you all and you have my most heartfelt apology for the actions of my family. All are welcome within these walls.” Another great cheer rose from the crowd below and Koutarou turned and went back down the steps. Haruka stepped forward and continued to speak to the crowd gathered below, but Akaashi broke off to follow the berserker. 

He wanted to say something to him, but no words felt right. He touched his shoulder and Koutarou turned to him, searching his face. He looked strange in the dim torchlight of the tower stairwell, uncertainty cast across his features. His eyes fell from Akaashi in shame.

“I'm sorry. Here I am, taking all this glory when it was you who-” His words were silenced as Akaashi pulled him against him, sealing their mouths together. His hands found the rogue's waist, still bare under the cowl that Nishinoya had given him, and gripped at his skin roughly. Koutarou kissed him slowly though, savoring him, sending chills across his body, even as he pulled away. 

“Enough of that. I would make a poor hero and I've not taste for glory. But it sits upon you like a crown.” He hadn't meant for his words to be romantic, merely truth, but Koutarou pulled him closer, nuzzling against his cheek.

“I can't believe you came here in my stead. Why would you do something so foolish?” There was a smile in his voice and it warmed Akaashi like an ember.

“Well, I had no way of knowing you would be stupid enough to come after me. But,” he pulled back, taking the warrior's face in his hands, “I am glad you did. You have done a great deed this day by challenging your father. It took strength and courage that most men lack. You are...wondrous.”

“Keiji, come on! You've got an entire castle!” Nishinoya's loud voice cut through the darkness and he pulled away from Koutarou, placing his hands on his hips. The bandit king sauntered over to him, slapping him hard on the back. His sharp eyes traveled to Koutarou.

“The Manticore and his Shadow, huh? Sounds like the stuff of legends, if you ask me. Now, you're both disgusting and so am I. Bokuto-san, you have a bath house somewhere in this fine estate?” 

Koutarou smiled and chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked boyish and handsome in a way that pushed the air from Akaashi's lungs and he shook his head at his own foolishness. 

“Yes, yes, of course. Come, I'll show you.” 

Akaashi had expected the house to be overrun with people, grabbing things as they could and ransacking the place. But something about Koutarou had inspired a reverence in them that still had them acting as if he were a noble. He told every servant they encountered to collect their pay from the treasurer and go if they wished, but they all patted him and continued to cater to them all with heartfelt smiles. 

It was still strange, being treated this way. Never in the bandit's life before masquerading as the noble had he received such attention and the private baths of the house were as beautiful and fragrant as the first time he had been taken to them. The atmosphere was wholly different now, however. A few of the men entered with them, all speaking almost casually. Yamamoto joined them, along with Kyoutani. With aromatic soaps and clean, steaming water, they washed the dirt, blood, and sweat from their bodies. He ached terribly from the wounds he received earlier, the healing magic the Iron Wall had laid upon him knitting flesh but not removing the stress the injuries had tightened in his muscles. He relaxed in the warmth of bath, listening to the others speak animatedly with each other, the sparkling laugh of Koutarou easing the ache from his shoulders as much as the water. He kept his eyes off of him as much as possible, but each time he failed to do so, he found that golden gaze angled toward him. 

He had his eyes closed, drowsing in the warm water, when Nishinoya elbowed him gently. He opened his eyes slowly, lifting an eyebrow at the bandit king. His brows bounced in return as he flicked his gaze over to Koutarou, a beautiful silver robe being placed over his broad shoulders. The fabric looked satiny as it fell around him, and the attendant tied a large sash around him in a honey-gold. He took the man's shoulders and whispered something to him. There were tears in the other man's eyes as he patted the warrior's arms and nodded. They loved him. There was no doubt. 

He folded his arms and walked from the bath house, a single backward glance crashing into Akaashi with a rush of anticipation before he disappeared. Nishinoya pushed at his shoulder. 

“What are you doing? Time to go get your just reward, my proud general. I've never seen you so enchanted.” His lascivious smile made Akaashi role his eyes.

“You are incorrigible, as always.” But still he stepped from the water, someone rushing to give him a towel, soft and warm from the hearth, then draping his shoulders in dark, silken fabric. The robe was so luxurious he felt uncomfortable, and his pulse was beginning to quicken. A silver sash tied it at his waist. The manservant Koutarou had spoken with before approached him and the others scurried away.

“Lord Bokuto asked me to bring you wherever you would like. We have many guest rooms but,” the man leaned in conspiratorially, his voice falling to a whisper, “he also invites you to his suite, if you are willing.” A hint of smile teased at Akaashi's lips. He nodded. 

“Yes, thank you. I know the way. You needn't escort me.” The man bowed and hurried away. 

He took his time making his way to Koutarou's room, trying desperately to calm his frantic heart. Why did he feel like this? He'd been with him once before. But this was different. His feelings were much stronger, even though it had only been a matter of days, and the dynamic was so much more even. There, in the tent, he had all the control. But at nearly every instance he had loosed the bonds for this man. And now, his heart raced like a maiden on her wedding night. 

It was strange, coming to the door of the room that he and Mika had shared over the last three days. His brow crinkled when he heard voices within. He had thought to simply enter, but instead he rapped his knuckles on the solid wooden door. The voices quieted.

When it opened, Mika stood before him, red-faced and teary eyed. She started at first, but a grim frown overtook her delicate features as she looked him over. Akaashi took a step back. Could he have misread the information? He chewed his lip as fresh tears trailed down her face. 

Koutarou opened the door wider behind her, his eyes growing large with panic. 

“He and I are married, you know! I thank you for everything, but he's my husband and it's not right-” she was berating him but Koutarou stepped in front of her, cutting her off and joining Akaashi in the hallway.

“Mika-san,” his voice was soft but stern as Koutarou rounded on her, “I'm sorry, but I never said vows or agreed to marry you. I could not have. We are not married. If you won't leave this room, then so be it, but I will be finding another then.”

“But-” she cried, but a sharp hand motion from the warrior cut her off again.

“I'm sorry, but no. I cannot and will not be what you want. I'll see to it you make it back to your family's house so that you can marry a proper noble. But after today, I will be a noble no longer. And,” he took her hands in his, his voice gentling, “I cannot love you as you deserve. You should be with someone who can.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead sweetly. 

Her hands flew to her face and she shouldered past him, fleeing down the hallway. He ran a hand through his hair, his face pinched in a pained expression. His gaze flicked to Akaashi and quickly away.

“I-I'm sorry. She was here when I got back and I'm not the best at handling things like this. I didn't know what to tell her. I'm sorry I couldn't get her to leave before you came. But, I,” he reached up, his fingers feathering over Akaashi's cheek, “I'm so glad you did.” He smiled that blinding, sweet smile that Akaashi worried his heart would never learn how to take. He brushed his fingers over Koutarou's hand on his face. 

“Bokuto-san,” but Koutarou's thumb fell over his lips as he pulled him into the room.

“No, let my name die on upon your lips. I am only Koutarou now. The King of the Bandits, he called you Keiji. Can I...?” Akaashi nodded with a soft smile and he grinned. He pulled him to the soft cushioned couches in front of the huge fireplace, sitting him down and taking a place next to him, their knees barely touching. There was a hunger growing in Akaashi, but he quelled it as best he could when he saw Koutarou's nervous knee bounce as he chewed at a thumbnail.

“Will you tell me why you did it? Is it because you hate my family so much? I just need to know the truth, please?” Oh. Akaashi studied the lines of his face, crinkled in nervous sorrow, his eyes refusing to meet the rogue's. Akaashi sighed.

“My parents worked in your father's mine when I was a boy. There was a fire, a spark that ignited some fumes deep in the cavern. It burned so hot the silver began to melt, making it harder to extract as it would slip between the crevices instead of staying near the vein. Your father placed the order that only the miners who came to the checkpoint with an arm full of silver would be let out. They were turning people away who came with empty arms. My parents never made it out. 

“For that, and the many terrible things that followed in my life, I blamed your father. Every wound that I endured I wished upon him a thousand fold. I learned to control my rage, but it was always there, burning beneath the surface, waiting for the moment to strike.”

Koutarou's face had fallen, his hands clutching at the satin robe. His jaw was clenched and his eyes locked on the flame of the fire. Akaashi struggled to find the right words, but they swelled within him in a rush as Koutarou's eyes shut tight with a heavy sigh.

“But none of that was in my mind when I struck the final blow against him.” Those golden eyes jumped to him, holding him with their power while the berserker waited. Anticipation danced over Koutarou, a stillness overtaking him. “I only knew two things, that I couldn't let him kill you. And that I couldn't let you kill him. It would have destroyed you, either way. Somehow, balanced on the moment I'd been waiting my whole life for, there was no room in my soul for hate.”

He turned toward Koutarou fully, grabbing his hands and pulling them toward him. A dam had broken within him and he held the warrior's gaze as something vulnerable poured from him.

“Koutarou, you, you make me feel as if I've lived a lifetime in the impenetrable darkness of the night and only just looked up to see the stars lacing the heavens with their beauty.” He saw the warrior's breath catch in his throat, his lips part and eyes widen. It was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever said to anyone and his face heated from it.

“K-Keiji...” but the rogue silenced him with a firm press of lips against his, unable to quiet what was raging within him any longer. The sweet way that his name dripped from Koutarou's tongue was too much to withstand. His hands moved to the warrior's face, fingers gripping at his strong jaw. His skin was always burning, even now, and as his hands slid around Akaashi's waist to pull him closer, he could even feel it through the thin fabric of his robe. 

A rumbling sound of approval rushed through Koutarou and into his mouth and he pulled Akaashi over top of him, to straddle his lap. One of those strong and calloused hands slipped up his thigh and beneath his robe to settle at his hip. Want pounded through his veins and he pressed his tongue into Koutarou's yielding mouth, relishing the taste of him as he arched into the sturdy warrior. He wanted this so badly, to have him ravenous and willing, beyond their brief encounter in the camp. He'd been thinking of it since that first kiss, even since he'd felt Koutarou's legs wrap around him the first time he'd dared him to attempt his seduction. 

His fingers slid back up into those silver and black locks, angling his face almost forcefully to slot them together more completely. As he rolled his hips he could feel the berserker's heavy arousal and the hand at his hip slid back further to cup his backside. His strong fingers dug into Akaashi's flesh and made him gasp into Koutarou's mouth. 

When they separated for air, Koutarou already looked destroyed, his cheeks red and pupils blown wide in the golden-amber of his eyes. The look of adoration in him as his gaze raked over Akaashi was breathtaking. 

“I didn't know if you would...are you sure...” his sweet coyness stoked the fires of the want that raged within the bandit leader and he gripped the back of Koutarou's hair tight, pulling so that his head fell back and he hissed, but his hips jutted into him and his fingers tightened around Akaashi. The bandit leader let his breath play along Koutarou's raised jawline until his lips were just over his ear.

“Take me to your bed and fuck me properly.” 

He latched his teeth on Koutarou's throat, dragging across his skin and laving over with his tongue as a needy whine escaped his warrior. As soon as he released, Koutarou stood, lifting him with ease as Akaashi tightened his thighs around him. He was so much stronger, his frame much more built to wield those heavy twin axes, but in this he surrendered to Akaashi's instruction s without a moment of hesitation.

He set him on the bed and kissed him wantonly, gripping his thighs with bruising intensity. Akaashi pulled at the golden sash as his waist, an urgency making his hands shake ever so slightly. But Koutarou stayed his eager fingers pulling away and turning to his bedside table, where he retrieved a small, ornate vial with the warm and slippery liquid that would ease their intentions. He placed it on the bed.

Pulling Akaashi tight to him again, he scooted him off the bed and spun him around, Taking his hips in hand, he thrust his hard length against the cleft of Akaash's ass, a small 'hah' leaving the rogue's lips as he leaned back into him. Those devilish hands drifted up his back to the collar of his robe and pulled the edges slowly over Akaashi's shoulders. His searing kisses followed as more and more flesh was revealed.

“I thought I would never get to touch you like this.” Koutarou whispered against his neck, making Akaashi shiver.

“What other hands could be so worthy?” he replied, almost angrily. The truth was, of course, he hadn't thought they would ever be together again either. He'd been burying that painful knowledge for what felt like an eternity, despite it only having been a handful of days. 

Koutarou yanked the robe from him entirely and his chest went tight. The terrible scars across his back...he knew how gruesome they looked, how the old wounds would compare to the berserker's perfect bronze skin, but he sucked in a breath when feather-light touches cascaded over the rough skin. He felt Koutarou's lips at the nape of his neck, his tongue darting against the skin like molten drops. 

He felt his fingers trail down to the base of his spine and brush along his cleft. He pulled   
Akaashi against his chest, his straining cock sliding between his legs to rub against his own and he gasped at the sudden shock of pleasure from the contact. He hadn't noticed him pick the vial back up, but warm, slick fingers slid against his entrance. He moved back against him, and Koutarou let out a shuddering breath against his shoulder as he slid one digit into him. Akaashi flinched at the initial intrusion, waiting for his body to relax, and Koutarou aided him, snaking one hand around his waist to grip him lightly. He stroked slowly, maddeningly, refusing to grip him properly and a low growl issued from Akaashi as his hands fisted the luxurious sheets of the bed in front of him. The hot mouth at his shoulder and neck never seemed to leave him and the brushings of Koutarou's heavy erection sent sparks through him as well. 

“You're being too slow,” he grated at the berserker, needing to feel him, needing him to fall apart fully seated in the bandit leader. Koutarou chuckled again, sliding a second finger into him. 

“Don't be so impatient. We finally have all the time in the world,” the smile in his voice set a glow in Akaashi's chest. His breath was coming fast and the fist around him tightened as Koutarou curled his fingers, pressing against the area inside of him that nearly made his knees buckle as pleasure spiraled through him. “I'll give you anything you want though, Akaashi.”

Akaashi stilled his hands, turning and pulling him onto the bed. Their mouths met again with wild abandon, a thin sheen of sweat making their skin slide together deliciously. He pushed Koutarou back onto his knees, pushing his robe from his shoulders and trailing nips down his thick neck and across his collarbone. The curves of his muscular frame were heaven beneath Akaashi's palms and he moved them as achingly slowly over the warrior as Koutarou had administered to him. The warrior was breathing hard, his cheeks rosy in the firelight of the room.

“Hands on the bed until I tell you otherwise,” he commanded and another whine escaped his brave warrior as his palms found the sheets. Once in place, Akaashi dropped between his thighs to lick at the tip of his ample member. His body jerked as the rogue took him in, just the head, swirling his tongue and making his lover moan from desire for more. He set to work with his other hand as well, preparing himself the rest of the way quickly, tired of waiting. 

He teased his mouth and tongue around Koutarou's cock until he was gripping the sheets with white knuckles, panting loudly and pleading his name. When he felt he was ready, he used the vial to slick Koutarou, his body trembling as Akaashi stroked him slow and hard.

“Ah, please, Keiji, please...” he cried out and Akaashi released him, dancing his fingertips over Koutarou. He checked the berserker's hands and they were still gripping the bed.

“You're such a good boy, Koutarou. I'll give you what you need, but you will promise me something first.” He took the warrior's chin in hand, forcing him to meet his hooded gaze, their lips close as Koutarou huffed sharp breaths through his nose.

“Yes, anything. Anything.”

“You will never submit to anyone ever again. Except for me. I am your only master and only here, where there is nothing between us but aching desire.” 

Koutarou moved forward, capturing his mouth but keeping his hands on the bed. His desperate moan reverberated through Akaashi as he let their tongues clash together. When he pulled away, his golden eyes were radiant in the darkened room.

“Never. No one but you. Nowhere but here.”

With a shared breath all that lay between them, Akaashi took the warrior's hands and place them back upon him. He pulled him down over top of him, lifting his knees to grasp Koutarou's hips, an invitation. A command. 

Koutarou heeded it like all of his demands, moving against him only enough to find to his entrance before sinking slowly into him, his cock pulsing and breath ragged as he sheathed himself in Akaashi's body. Akaash's nails sunk into his shoulders from the stretch and the warrior stilled, teeth clenched in order to give him time to adjust. Koutarou lifted the rogue's hips from the bed, sinking deeper in and a sweet cry of pleasure escaped Akaashi as his back arched up off of the bed. 

As if it was the signal he had been waiting for, Koutarou began to move, slow thrusts that dragged sinfully against Akaashi's very being. The warrior groaned in bliss with every push, whispering his name with velvet reverence that sang across his skin. It was so good, but he needed more, needed the fire of the battlefield that burned within the berserker, needed him to slake his lust without caution or control. He grabbed a fistful of the silver hair and growled to him, his other hand gripping at the sheets.

“Take me harder. I want to feel your rage.” 

It was like igniting black powder. The warrior reared up, taking Akaashi's legs by the back of his knees and pressing them up and apart, giving himself the best angle. His hips began to snap, fast and brutally, tearing more ecstasy from Akaashi than he'd ever known. Each deep thrust pounded against his prostate, tearing cries from him that he didn't know he could make as he gripped sheets above his head. He could feel the buildup already beginning, though his own straining erection remained untouched. 

When he looked up into Koutarou's eyes, he could see that wild battle rage coursing through him, feel it in the tightness of his muscles and the single-mindedness of his movements. He felt him swell, larger than even before as he approached climax and Akaashi finally took himself in hand, the almost violent thrusts bouncing him each time as Koutarou held him open. 

It only took a few sharp pumps of his hand, with that beautiful warrior chasing his pleasure over him, to push him over the precipice. His hot liquid release coated his chest as his body clenched and Koutarou cried out, his voice nearly a shout as his head fell back with a final deep thrust. 

They simply stilled, letting the moment wash over them as their ragged breaths filled the silence in the room. Akaashi's hands and feet tingled as the bright wave of climax slowly receded from him. He was breathing so hard, his body hot, and as Koutarou released his legs, he remembered how sore he was from the day even before this exchange. Koutarou eased out of him, eliciting a hiss. He would certainly be even more achy tomorrow, but it was well worth it. 

Koutarou sprung from the bed, returning with a soft cloth that he gently cleaned Akaashi with. It was strange to have someone treat him like this, but the contentment he saw on the warrior's face made him stay silent and allow it. Once they were both wiped down, Koutarou slipped back in next to him, nuzzling against his neck and jaw and making little happy whimpers that seemed very unlike a raging berserker, but somehow very much like the incredible noble. A true smile spread across the rogue's features as he ran his fingers through the man's hair. Koutarou's hands caressed him like he was the most precious treasure in a dragon's hoard.

“You were so brave today, Koutarou. Amazing. I am still struck with wonder that you are the same man I kidnapped from the road.” Golden eyes rose to meet his, hazy from exhaustion but bright as fire as they took him in. 

“I feel like a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Like I can finally breathe. That savage weight of my cursed bloodline.” He ran his fingers over the space on his chest that used to have the mark of the manticore.

“You're finally free,” Akaashi whispered, the sweetness in his voice a new sound, but one he relished. Koutarou nodded, his lips curling in earnest warmth. “What will you do now, noble son? Will you go on to join the Great Horns? I have a feeling that my band will be losing our sorcerer to them, thanks to your celestial friend. So if you...” A fluttering of nerves broke out in his chest as he looked into Koutarou's radiant face.

If he asked, then there would be an answer. And the answer could be no. He wasn't sure he was ready for that. He pulled the man against him again, kissing him roughly and making his calloused hands clutch at Akaashi's sides. He wanted to know him more. To know all his weaknesses and desires, how to support him and better him. Perhaps even...how to love him. 

“Would you join us? Could you follow me?” He felt the straining plea within his own voice and Koutarou's eyebrows bounced once, his eyes sparkling as he bit his bottom lip playfully.

“No.” The answer slashed at him, unexpected and his heart dropped through the floor. He swallowed back a bitter knot of disappointment.

“Oh. Then-”

“But I'll stand beside you.”

Akaashi sucked in a breath as he lost his words, relief flooding him and he pressed his forehead against Koutarou's, his eyes slipping closed as his nose brushed against the noble's.

Beside him. A shining star, the manticore, and his lurid shadow. They would walk forward from this moment, leaving behind the shackles of their past. Letting fall the wicked weight of silver. 

[Nobody Wants to be Alone – Christian Reindl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHYv0YdvgZo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Shadow and The Manticore would become as fearsome to those who lived in greed as they were saviors to those who were downtrodden. It was said that no duo was so devoted to their men and to each other._
> 
> _Haruka went on to join the mage tower in Nekoma, hearing that a new archmage was paving the way for all to learn the ways of magic, should they wish it._
> 
> _Mika intended to return home, however, a few days after the fall of House Bokuto, she met a most lively and handsome bandit, who seemed to fall over himself at her presence. Enchanted by the young woman, Tanaka agreed to escort her back to her family, but only a few days later, they both returned to the bandit troupe and she joined them in their life of good-hearted crime at Tanaka's side._
> 
> _As for Terushima, he did leave bandits to travel with Kyoutani, but they never rejoined the Great Horns. As for what happened to them, well, that is another tale to be told._
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my high adventure story with some of your favorite characters. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me a comment if you don't mind, because I love hearing from you and we've been through a lot together at this point. I appreciate you all greatly and hope that you might come back for Haikuu Fantasy once again! <3<3<3


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